


Splint

by HelenaMarkos



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fourth Age, Gondor, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Mordor, Post War, Sexual Content, Violence, nurn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 71
Words: 394,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenaMarkos/pseuds/HelenaMarkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An injured ranger finds himself with an unlikely rescuer...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> Arda and its people, places and things are the property of one J.R.R. Tolkien. I make no profit, only fun. Check out my DA account for illustrations of scene and characters from the story! helena-markos.deviantart.com/

 

 

**Splint**

**Chapter One: Wolves**

**Disclaimer:**  Middle Earth, its characters and places and history, belong to J. R. R. Tolkien, but I do have a good time playing with it. Other characters, including the original OCs and incidental OCs of this story, belong to me. No monetary nothing is gained from this endeavor, and if Tolkien saw how kindly I thought of orcs (even the really mean and nasty ones) he would be appalled...

* * *

_"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater."_

_-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers_

* * *

It was getting dark.

That was the first thought that crept into his mind as Cadoc opened his eyes. He stared at the reddening sky. His breath curled in a lazy, white mist above him while agony rippled across his body. Vaguely, through the din his pulse made in his ears, he could hear the frantic whinnying of his horse a few meters away. The beast labored — in vain, from the sound of its struggle — to right itself after their precarious tumble down the sloping landscape. He blinked slowly, as though caught in a viscous fluid, and tried moving his legs, but they refused to listen. A frantic moment passed over him and he fought against his injuries, but only managed to rock a little on his back, like an overturned turtle. Exhausted, he ceased struggling. The wind's hollow whistle through the desolate, rocky peaks was almost deafening.

A wolf bayed somewhere to his right, though Cadoc could not discern its distance. Its call was soon echoed by a fellow, and Cadoc sensed enthusiasm in the second wolf's return. For a moment, his vision swam, fuzzy and dark, but Cadoc willed himself to stay conscious, though he realized his ill found fate would be less agonizing if he allowed himself to fall into oblivion.

Cadoc had roamed the wilderness as a Ranger for all of his adult life. He had survived orc attacks and battles with the warriors of Harad and Rhûn along the Gondor border, and even the Great War had not felled him, despite the fact that it finished many men far greater than he. In all his long years, Cadoc could not imagine that his death would come on the side of the mountains just three days from his home village. Once these wolves had at him, there would be nothing left to mark his passage from the world. His dear younger sister, perhaps even now anticipating his return, would never know what fate was met by her brother. Cadoc chuckled – a wet, rasping sound in his chest – that this would be his end; a bloody, broken pile in the middle of nowhere.

The growling was close now. Where was his sword? Moving his arm to his hip was a monumental effort. Cadoc found his weapon sheathed at his side, but lacked the strength to unbuckle it, never mind pull the blade free. His knife was tucked away in his right boot, but considering his current condition, Cadoc felt it may as well have been stuck in a stone on the other side of the world. His horse made a terrible noise, like a woman's high pitched, agonized screaming, and the ranger knew his old stallion was dead. His world became a cacophony of snarling and snapping teeth and the messy, wet noise of the wolves' feasting. Bile rose in his throat as he listened to the gory ruin of his proud steed, and for the first time since he regained consciousness, Cadoc was relieved he could not turn his head. The ranger wondered how long the wolves would take to end him as well.

Not long, it seemed. One was at his side now. He could see its hulking form from the corner of his eye, all black fur and yellow eyes and teeth, teeth, teeth gleaming with blood. The beast was so close he could smell the sharp, metallic stench of its breath.

"Let's have it then," Cadoc growled, defiant. The wolf leapt, and despite himself, Cadoc closed his eyes against the approach of its red fangs, but there was no landfall, no rending of throat and limbs and flesh. Instead, Cadoc heard the wolf yelp in startled surprise, and a flurry of fire waved over him. A dark, cloaked figure positioned itself between Cadoc and his aggressors, swinging a torch and cursing — at least, it sounded like cursing — in a guttural tongue that he could not recognize. Cadoc's head swam for a second time and he felt his hard won wakefulness slipping.

Blinking against the spots that swarmed his vision, the Ranger tried to make sense of the figure silhouetted against the torchlight. It lifted the nearest wolf up with a free hand, and issued a snarl that put the beast it held to shame. Cadoc's defender tossed the wolf effortlessly at its two pack mates, toppling the three of them in a pile of matted fur and limbs and yelping surprise. A warg pack might have rallied against their foe, but these were common animals. The wolves clamored to their feet, and Cadoc could hear their frightened whining fading into the distance.

Cadoc's vision was fading as his champion turned to face him, and before he fell into the dark arms of unconsciousness, he discovered what it was that saved him; black skin, the flash of fangs and yellow eyes that glowed unnaturally in the dim light. It was a face he knew well, the face of an orc.

As the creature approached him, his world went black, but even in his dreams, he could see those eyes, bright and alien in his mind. Cadoc slept, and dreamed of yellow eyes.

* * *

Rukhash stared down at the prone man, unsure of what to do. She had no idea what prompted her to scare off the wolves in the first place. In the heat of the moment, it seemed like a logical course. Though now, surveying this man's injuries, she knew that leaving him here would be an even less merciful death than if the beasts had devoured him alive. A small part of her felt she should be satisfied with that. She bared her fangs at his slack face.

_**I**_ _should devour him_ **,** she thought fiercely. After all, how many of her kind had perished during the war and after because of his murderous race?

Despite her vicious thoughts, Rukhash found herself bending over the man. Her hand moved to the pulse at his neck, where she could feel the weak flutter of his heartbeat against her fingertips. The hard claw of her thumb rested dangerously against the hollow of his throat, and she pressed it gingerly to the pale skin there. A dark drop of blood welled up, but the wound was too shallow to cause any real damage. Rukhash scowled.

_His skin is like paper_ , she mused.  _I would just need a little more pressure to end his worthless life._  Her claw did not dip any further, though. She searched for the old malice that sustained her in youth, but that had perished with her Master. Not even the rage of grief remained, only the aching emptiness of her loss, and Rukhash found herself thinking thoughts that she once would have considered traitorous.

How long had it been since she spoke to another soul? Three years, maybe four? Even then, it was to be rejected by a small tribe of goblins. They had sent her back out into the wilds alone, despite her lengthy search for other orcs, and her pitiful pleading at their doorstep. Though she felt murderous at the time, Rukhash supposed she couldn't blame them entirely. The Uruk-hai had never bothered to curry any favor with the other orcish breeds, especially the smaller  _snaga_  of Isengard that so often bore the brunt of their haughty disdain. It was a fine revenge they'd had on her.

Rukhash found herself examining the Man's bloodied features.  _Skai_ , but he was ugly! Even with the scrapes and dark bruises, she could make out his hideously pale complexion, his long, straight nose, and his whole face was covered in dark, greying fur. Rukhash scowled to herself. He was so alien looking, and for a moment her repulsion almost made her mind up for her.

Thinking of her lonely cave further up the mountain and the fast approaching winter with its long nights of cold darkness, she reconsidered. After all, she could not blame  _one Man_  for all the slights against her or her people; even if he was ugly. More than that, she herself was of mannish heritage. Rukhash could not remember her Dunlending granddad well, but she could recall his gentle, singsong voice and sharp blue eyes; so different from her gruff, red-eyed orcish nan. If her memory was right, he was even furrier than the injured man in front of her.

What could happen, then, if she helped this Man? There were no other orcs to rail against her, no master to drive her to murder, and the old, insatiable hunger she knew in Isengard and Mordor had evaporated with the Dark Lord's spirit. If anything, she might be doing her own lot a great service. If she could befriend this man, perhaps he would not be as eager to draw a blade against her people. Rukhash eyed his ranger's cloak dubiously. She would have to be cautious, though. He could just as easily slit her throat while she slept.

But to have a little company! Even under duress, it would be a preferable situation to her loneliness.

_Besides_ , she thought, smiling to herself,  _if he becomes a bother, I could always eat him._

Feeling more cheerful than she had in months, Rukhash trussed up the man's wounds as best she could with her limited supplies and hefted him onto her back. Shuffling to his dead horse, she managed to pull the saddlebags free of the gore left by the wolves, determined to take any extra supplies this man may have carried with her as well. It would be a slow climb up to her cave, but she would best be able to care for his injuries there.

With a light heart and a heavy burden, Rukhash began her long ascent up the mountain.

* * *

**Last Edited: July 2014**


	2. Greetings

**Splint**

**Chapter Two: Greetings**

* * *

When Cadoc awoke, he was immediately alerted to the fact that he was naked. Even though his private areas were covered by a rough blanket, this was distressing. The stitching and stiff fur scraped against his bare skin in numerous areas, but at least it  _seemed_  clean. He was grateful for that small relief.

The excruciating pain he experienced earlier had dulled to a mild throbbing in his leg, and the Ranger found that he could manage turning his head from side to side without trouble. There was no sign of the orc, though he imagined it was somewhere nearby. Out of habit, Cadoc made a mental check of his surroundings with the limited mobility his body afforded him.

He had been moved into a cave with a high ceiling a – more or less – even floor. A fire crackled nearby. Beyond that his ragged clothes were folded in a bloody pile and placed over his weapons. Near his head was a bowl of filthy water and a rag, most likely used to wipe the blood and sweat from his body. Cadoc felt a twinge of unease at this. The thought of an orc stripping him, even for a task as amiable as bathing, was disturbing to say the least.

His left arm was sore. Lifting the limb gingerly, he realized it had been bandaged from the elbow down, the dressing strips of his cotton undershirt, rinsed and cut into even lengths. Whoever had bandaged him – and Cadoc could only assume at this point that the orc had done it – did so with care. He turned his neck to scrutinize the damage done to his leg, and wondered anew at the well-made splint steadying his limb. This orc seemed to have some knowledge of healing.

This was a riddle worth solving. Why would an orc go through the trouble to save him at all?

_Unless it wants me healed for some other, unwholesome purpose_ , he thought with a shudder.

Cadoc had fought in the War of the Ring, and for many years before and after protected Gondor's borders from the armies of Mordor. He knew the damage a band of orcs could do on an unsuspecting village, had seen the gruesome aftermath of too many orcish raids and invasions. In the years following the War, he had devoted himself to ridding even the wildest places of their foul presence, and had fought alongside fellow Rangers, Gondor soldiers and orc hunters to that end. There was a cruel irony that he was now at the mercy of such a beast. Cadoc knew his right leg was thoroughly broken. He heard the bone snap when he was thrown from his horse. There was no way he would escape without recapture.

Sighing in frustration, he realized there were signs that the creature had been here for some time. Along the far wall there was a small stack of baskets, whose contents Cadoc did not hazard to guess; a animal skin sleeping mat and rolled blanket were located near his weapons; tidy stacks of cookware, a pile of arrows **,** and skins stretching were laid out not far from the slope leading from the mouth of the cave down to the floor two meters below; a woven mat with tools and little pots arranged on it lay near his feet, though he could not determine what exactly those tools were. He had to crane his neck uncomfortably to see them in the first place, and the angle was not advantageous.

His weapons were too far from him. This was obviously done on purpose. It would be nearly impossible to drag his battered body across the cave, especially since he had no idea when the orc would return, or if it had partners. There was a slim hope that the creature may have been careless. He did not get a good look at the tools left by his feet, but there had to be a knife or blade of some kind that it used to cut the material for his bindings. If not a blade, there still might be something he could break to make a sharp edge. He may be in the den of an orc, but Cadoc would not be helpless.

Grunting in agony, the Ranger managed to push himself up into a sitting position. Already, his breathing was labored, and he winced as new pain wrapped around his torso. Examining the area, he found a broad bruise spread over his belly onto his side. Cadoc scowled at the revelation of this additional injury. Undaunted, he leaned forward to survey the possible weaponry afforded to him.

There was a small part of Cadoc that wanted to weep. Laying near a few strips of binding, a tiny pen knife glinted feebly in the firelight. Gathering his resolve, Cadoc reached for the knife anyway. It would be a paltry weapon against a foe as ferocious as an orc, but it would have to do. At least now he would be armed while he dragged himself across the cave to reach his sword.

A quiet snort from behind broke his train of thought, and Cadoc felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise. He turned slowly, hesitantly towards the mouth of the cave. Standing at the entrance was the creature that saved him from the wolves, and there was no mistaking it for anything but an orc. Though a hood hid the better portion of its features in shadow, its bright yellow eyes glinted unnaturally in the firelight. It was dressed in several layers of fur and leather. The pair of thin, dark legs visible beneath the hem of its cloak were swallowed by thick, leather boots. It was holding a pair of hares, a long bow and quiver slung across its shoulders. It was not very broad, which gave him some slim hope that he might overpower it in a fight. Injured as he was, Cadoc was still prepared to defend himself.

Awkward silence stretched between them. The beast stared at him far longer than Cadoc felt comfortable with. How long had it been there watching? He imagined that it must find his incapacitation amusing in some way; why else watch him struggle just to sit up? It stared at him and the Ranger stared back defiantly.

_Let it come at me_ , he thought fiercely,  _and it will find that I am more than it bargained for in a victim!_

The orc did not attack, as he suspected it would, but began a slow descent down the slope and into the cave, its movements calm and almost graceful. Cadoc was briefly reminded of a barn cat as it stalked a mouse. The creature's eyes never left his, holding his steady gaze with its own stoic expression. In the short time it took for the orc to descend from the threshold and cross the distance to the fire pit, Cadoc envisioned every hideous aftermath he had ever seen dealt by creatures such as this. In the immediate years after the war, orcs had done as much damage to the weakened Gondor as they did _during_  the war. Their fierce reprisal in the face of defeat was terrifying, for they no longer challenged the armies of men, but stalked the shadows for more helpless victims. He remembered children half eaten and burned in the flames of their own homes, women obviously ravaged before they were sliced in two, and tales of those unfortunate survivors who no longer had limbs or recognizable faces.

And here he was, in the lair of such a monster, with a blade no longer than his pinky between them.

The creature stopped in front of the fire, close enough for him to see it more clearly, but too far for him to hazard an attack. Lifting its hood, the orc turned its attention to the pair of hares it had strung on a short thread of leather; as if making the decision that he was not a threat, and therefore, unworthy of its continued interest.

Cadoc stared into the glassy black eyes of the hares as their slit throats dripped thick sanguine onto the uneven stone.

Pulling a long, curved blade from its boot, the orc began skinning its kill with a sure hand borne of familiarity. Realizing the struggle he anticipated was not forthcoming, Cadoc took this reprieve to study his captor more closely. It had a high hairline and a heavy brow that shadowed its large, slanted eyes. Its lips were thin, but protruded to cover the fangs he knew hid underneath. The fire gave its black skin a reddish tint, and Cadoc could see a crisscross of numerous tiny, raised scars across its brow and neck that he might not have noticed without the harsh light. There were a few traits that Cadoc found slightly out of stride with what he would consider usual. The orc's straight legged gait would mark it as an Uruk hai, the fierce northern orcs of Isengard, but it was far smaller than any Uruk hai he had ever come across. It's arms were long and thin, very much like a goblin's, but its brow was not as heavy or knotted as many of the goblins he had encountered. It bore features that were not what he would consider delicate, but its blunt nose was not quite as broad, its neck more slender, and its face had a youthful, rounded shape.

Anxiously biting the inside of his cheek, Cadoc fingered the pen knife. This creature looked young. Perhaps it's ungainly proportions were the mark of an adolescent. Hopefully, it was less skilled at fighting than it was at skinning. Minutes passed in silence while the orc worked and the Ranger watched; anxiously holding the knife between them. As the beast handily slid the first hare from its skin, it turned its gaze on him for a dozen long seconds before its slitted pupils flicked to the tiny weapon he held. The corners of the orc's mouth turned up, revealing a particularly disconcerting, crooked fang. An amused glint caught its eyes.

"This a  _man's_  gratitude?" the orc asked in a flat, growling accent. Its voice had all the comely tones of gravel scraping against stone.

Cadoc said nothing, but his grip tightened and his mouth firmed. In all his life, he never thought he would stoop so low as to converse with the likes of an  _orc_.

The orc shot him an irritated expression, obviously annoyed by his silence, but said nothing as it laid the second skinned carcass next to the first. The beast huffed and rose to retrieve a large pot from the far corner.

Finally, unable to bear the tension, the ranger asked, "Why are you keeping me here?"

The orc cocked its head to one side as it returned to the fireside. "Who's keepin' you anywhere?" it said with a wide-eyed, pouting expression that Cadoc assumed was meant to look innocent. Dropping the rabbits in, the orc rested the pot over the coals. There was a flourish to the way it did this, as if being overly dramatic.

"Go," it said, gesturing to the cave entrance grandly, "if you want ta go, but don't come cryin' ta me when the wolves have had you!" The orc raised its nose in the air with a haughty snuff. "Here, I thought ya might be decent company."

Scowling to cover his discomfort, Cadoc struggled to kneel up while holding the blanket to shield his modesty. If this creature was letting him go free, he wasn't going to turn the offer down. The orc gave him a baffled look, obviously surprised by his determination.

"Stubborn fool," it admonished with an animal growl, "yer goin' ta kill yerself."

As if on cue, the cave suddenly spun around him, and the ranger fell back onto the pallet. His vision darkened, and Cadoc realized that unconsciousness would yet again claim him.

The orc's face hovered above, shadowed except for its grotesque eyes that glowered down at him. "You must've given yer poor mum no end'a trouble," it said, voice laced with exasperation.

The ranger's grey eyes rolled up before closing and he was suddenly still as death. Rukhash was not worried. The rise and fall of his ribcage was easy to spot. She glared irritably at him. A bright, bloody gash bloomed across his head from his collision with the cave floor and she bristled with irritation. And here, she had gone through a lot of trouble to dress his wounds properly. The least he could have done was see that he didn't incur any new ones!

"Ungrateful," she muttered.

* * *

There was a warm rag on his brow, and a light scent of pine filled his nostrils. Somewhere to the right, he could hear someone humming low in their throat as a fire spat and crackled. For a disoriented moment Cadoc forgot where he was, until he caught sight of a stony cave ceiling. A mild throbbing blossomed behind his eyes. The ranger grunted and blinked to clear his vision.

The tuneless humming stopped.

"Awake now, are we?" the gravelly voice of the orc said. Cadoc heard a rustling as it moved to his side. Bright, yellow eyes hovered above him – they were all he could see in the gloom of the cave – and the rag on his head lifted. Its other hand was at his brow, applying a sticky, pungent substance.

"Idiot  _tark_ ," the orc clucked with an annoyed frown. "Nearly cracked yer skull open." The tone of its voice held no conviction. If anything, the orc seemed exasperated; as though he were a particularly unruly child.

Cadoc tried to form a response, but his throat had gone dry. Swallowing hard, all he could manage was another, feeble grunt.

"Here then," his captor said with more gentleness than Cadoc would give an orc credit for. Lifting his head the creature set a cup at his lips. "Don't gulp it down."

The water offered was relief, and, despite the warning, Cadoc swallowed it too quickly. He managed to breathe a little in, and launched into a fit of choked coughing. The orc growled and pushed him into a sitting position, striking him roughly between the shoulder blades a few times as he gasped and sputtered.

The fit racked his ribcage painfully, making his eyes water. The orc rubbed his back in small circles as he caught his breath in heaping gulps of air. The gesture was somewhat motherly, and Cadoc found it utterly troubling to be touched by an orc in such a way. He was suddenly reminded of his lack of clothing. Intending to say something to give the orc cause to retreat from him, he turned towards it, but found his words completely lost.

The orc was almost as naked as he was, covered in nothing but a loose loincloth at its hips. It was crouched so close, he could smell the light musk from its skin. Its dark face was mere inches from his own, but more disconcerting than that was the startling obviousness of its gender.

Without thinking, Cadoc struck the orc in the throat with his palm, and the creature fell backward with a startled yelp. For a few, terse seconds his captor stared at him incredulously, and Cadoc stared back, unable to look away from the orc's startled expression; its dark skin glistening in the low firelight; its surprisingly well-formed breasts rising and falling with each breath...

The she-orc leapt forward with a vicious snarl that would terrify even the most stalwart ranger and slapped him in the face with enough force to snap his head to the side and loosen several of his molars with a loud crack. For a dazed, blinking moment Cadoc feared she may have broken his jaw.

" _What the fuck is the matter with you_?" she bellowed and bared her jagged teeth to growl at him again.

The ranger ducked as, in one smooth motion, she threw the water cup at his head, rose to her feet and turned on her heal, returning to her seat by the fire. Cadoc refused to look at her. He could feel a hot blush at his face, and his cheek throbbed painfully where she struck him. Already he felt a welt forming. He heard her sloshing water, ringing out something, but he could not overcome his overwhelming embarrassment enough to see what she was doing

"Whiteskin  _bastard_ ," she growled, furious. "I could've left you to them wolves, or let the fever have you. Here, I show you mercy, and yer nothin' but  _ungrateful._ "

Cadoc did not know what to say to that, so he said nothing and pulled the blanket up to cover himself more modestly. The orc grumbled a little longer in her hateful speech and then fell silent. The only sound was a constant splashing of water.

"What are you doing?" Cadoc asked finally, unable to bear the awkward silence that stretched on. He had no intention of staring at a half naked female orc – there were not even words for the disturbing nature of that image – but he was also concerned about what she might be up to without him watching her.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the orcess huffed, annoyed.

Cadoc made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. "I don't know, I'm not looking."

"Well, if you  _looked_  then you wouldn't need me to  _tell you_ , idiot _zanbaur_ ," she growled at him.

Cadoc wasn't sure what a  _zanbaur_  was, but it didn't sound like a compliment. "You aren't clothed," the ranger stated.

Rukhash blinked owlishly at the back of his head. "What does that have to do with anythin'?" All the anger drained from her voice in the wake of her confusion, and she wondered, briefly, if this man was just a little off.

Again the awkward silence stretched, only now, he could feel her eyes focused on him. "It isn't decent!" Cadoc said finally, annoyed that she would drag out his discomfort.

Staring at his red face, Rukhash realized that the man sharing her cave looked more than uncomfortable to be around an orc. He looked downright  _embarrassed_. She didn't see why something as trivial as nudity would make anyone act so strangely. Uruk hai, and orcs in general, lived in such close quarters and with so little to go around that the concept of modesty was completely alien to her. This fluster was because he caught a peek of her breasts? That had to be the silliest thing she had ever heard. Rukhash couldn't help the giggles that escaped her, and when the man's expression grew grave, she broke down completely into uncontrolled laughter.

"I don't see what's so funny..."

"That's what you have your hackles up over?" she said between snorts as she tried to catch her breath. "Afraid of a pair of tits are we?" She jiggled her breasts as she said this, despite the fact that he he wasn't looking. She found that even more amusing and descended into loud guffaws, her eyes bright with tears. Dragging him back to her cave was the best idea she'd had in a long time. Finally, something to do besides stare at stones all day.

Cadoc scowled at the pitted wall in front of him, annoyed with this she orc's mocking laughter and her obvious lack of decency. "Do you have to do that right  _here_?"

The orc managed to reign in her outburst to quiet snorts. "We'll hope our ladyship will forgive us," she mocked, wiping her eyes, "but I ain't washin' outside to preserve an uppity whiteskin's delicate sensibilities." Cadoc released a long, angry breath from his nose. He heard her shifting, moving the basin of water **,**  and he hoped she wasn't approaching him again.

"Here now, I've turned 'round," she said, sounding no less amused with the situation. "Nothing to fear any more."

Chancing a glance, Cadoc found that she had, indeed, turned to face away from him. She continued washing with a methodical fastidiousness, and, despite himself, Cadoc was mesmerized with the way her muscles bunched and moved beneath her dark skin. Her figure was remarkably, disturbingly, like that of a woman. If it were not for the numerous, silver scars across the landscape of her back, and the occasional sight of her wicked, sharp claws, from behind – and in gold firelight – he might easily confuse her for a woman of Harad.

"You could use a wash yerself, you know," she said, breaking him from his troubling meditation on her ample hips and tiny waist. "Been 'bout fifteen days since I cleaned you up after that nasty business you had with those wolves."

"Fifteen days?" Cadoc asked, startled. Had he been here so long?

"Yea," the orc replied, "you slept a good while. Had a nasty fever. Thought you'd be dead for sure by now, but here I suppose you're made of tougher stuff then you look. Still," she continued with a sniff, "you  _are_ starting to stink. I can smell you from 'ere." She dropped her rag in the basin and looked over her shoulder at him. "Water's still warm, if you'd like it. And don't make that face at me; you've nothing I ain't seen before."

"If it makes her ladyship feel any better, I'll promise not to peek." The orc covered her eyes to emphasize her point, parting her fingers a little so a glimpse of her bright eyes could glint at him. "Not much, anyways," she added with a rakish smirk that revealed the crooked fang beneath her lower lip.

Cadoc growled a little in the back of his throat. "No, thank you," he replied tersely. The she orc rolled her eyes dramatically and turned away from him again.

She reached to her right to grab a little earthenware pot, dipped her hand in **,**  and began threading the oily contents into her thick, dark hair. "Don't know what you're being so cranky about," she said as she rubbed the oil into palms and began applying it to the rest of her body. "You don't believe you didn't shit the whole time you've been 'ere? Who do you think's been keeping you from layin' in yer own filth?" Cadoc felt a fresh wave of embarrassment flush his face. He assumed he should be thankful, but to be caught in such a debasing situation, and with an orc no less, plucked at his pride.

"Don't suppose our ladyship has a  _name_ ," the orc said, changing the subject. When Cadoc didn't answer, she peeked over her shoulder.

"I could make one up for you, if you don't feel like telling," she offered, smirking at him mischievously, as though she rather liked the idea of naming him herself, "but you'd probably not like what I come up with."

"Cadoc," he answered, fairly sure he definitely would not like any name an orc would give him.

"Cadoc," the Rukhash echoed, rolling the name on her tongue. It sounded solid enough for a name, she supposed. Reaching over to a tidy pile of clothes, she plucked a wolf skin tunic from the top. Pulling it over her head, she turned on her tailbone to face the man again. With her fingers laced, she arched her back and stretched, popping her spine into alignment with a content little grunt.

"Well, Lady Cadoc," she started with a smirk, "I'm Rukhash."

The ranger scowled at her. "Cadoc will do just fine," he replied.

Rukhash chuckled under her breath. She placed the pot of oil within his reach. "You should use some of that, at least," she stated matter-of-factly, "it'll keep the bugs off of you." Cadoc eyed the dark oil suspiciously.

" _Skai!_ " she exclaimed, and Cadoc flinched at her outburst. "It's not made from the bones of  _tark_  children!" She laughed at the startled expression on his face, rolling her eyes. "It's mostly tree oil, nothin' nasty."

The ranger dared a whiff of the liquid, and he found that it was not particularly foul-smelling. It had the heady scent of pine and moss, but it was an earthy, clean sort of smell, and Cadoc found it quite bearable. Mimicking her earlier application, he rubbed some into his hair and on his upper body. Rukhash had turned her back to him, ladling broth from the large pot he had seen her cook the hares in, and Cadoc took advantage of her inattention to rub a little of the oil on his more private areas.

When the orc turned to him again she let out a giggling snort. "You didn't need to wash in it," she laughed. Grabbing a rag, she tossed it at his head, and Cadoc obediently dried the excess from his hair and rubbed the oil into his skin more thoroughly. When he had finished, he realized Rukhash was regarding him with, a small, please smile plastered on her face; her yellow eyes dancing with amusement.

"Eat something," she ordered, shoving the bowl in his lap. It was half filled with a thin broth, and a thick, white bread-stuff was floating in the middle. Cadoc frowned at it.

"You'll want the biscuit to soak a bit," she explained, "or you won't be able to chew it." He took a tentative bite. True to her word, the bread she offered was a rock, worse than traveling tack, and the broth was bland and tasteless. Cadoc was hungry, but he found orc-food hard to swallow.

"I'll admit it's not much," Rukhash said, noting his difficulty as she chewed her own biscuit thoughtfully. "Didn't have much luck in hunting today, and no sense breaking into our stores too early." The orcess looked worriedly at the small pile of baskets she had piled in the far corner. "I'll have to range a little further tomorrow," she added, talking to herself more than him. "Now that you've got yer wits about, ain't got to worry about leaving you all day."

Cadoc's brow knitted at that, but he was still trying to chew the hard tack into a form he could swallow. His sore jaw wasn't helping matters. Finally, he managed to force the dense ball of dough down his throat. " _Our_ stores?" Cadoc asked.

"For the winter," Rukhash explained.

"The winter!" Cadoc exclaimed, alarmed. "What makes you think I'm staying here through the  _winter_?"

"You plannin' on hobbling down the mountain on yer own, then?" she growled at him, her expression suddenly stony. "You can barely sit up as it is."

He hadn't thought of that. Though unsure of the exact extent of his injuries, simply sitting for this short period of time was beginning to exhaust him. He doubted he would be able to manage a hike down a mountain.

"I thought," he said casually, "since you were being so altruistic, you would help me down yourself. I certainly would not want to put you through any more trouble than I already have."

Though not versed in orcish expressions, Cadoc was fairly sure a brief, hurt look passed across the she orc's features before she dropped her gaze to the bowl in her lap. "Ain't no trouble," she mumbled, deflated.

For some reason he couldn't place, Cadoc felt like a heel. It was a strange feeling, considering he felt it over the demeanor of an orc, but he could not deny that this creature  _had_  saved his life from certain peril, and he was curious as to  _why_  she had done it. As Rukhash continued her meal in sullen silence, avoiding eye contact with him, Cadoc glanced around the well-stocked cave. This was not the home of an orc that settled in recently. Though organized far more neatly than he would have expected, it looked as though she had been hoarding possessions for years. She poked at her supper, and Cadoc hazarded a guess to her motives. "How long have you been alone here?" he asked her quietly.

With a startled blink, Rukhash swallowed thickly. "This'll be my fourth winter," she admitted without meeting his eyes.

Frowning quietly, Cadoc said nothing to that. On one hand, she could be lying to him in an attempt to gain his sympathy, but Cadoc could not come up with any plausible reason  _why_  she would do so. Besides, he doubted orcs were such accomplished actors. Rukhash glanced at him briefly before dropping her gaze again, and Cadoc found that he pitied her, as wild a notion as it was. As a ranger, he was used to long stretches of solitude, but always there were comrades or his family waiting for him when he returned. Cadoc could not imagine returning to nothing. Ultimately, as dangerous as they were, he knew orcs to be social animals. It was entirely possible that this she orc was lonely enough to rescue a former, bitter enemy for the virtue of something as benign as companionship.

"So you meant what you said," he pressed, "about thinking that I would be good company?"

Rukhash's mouth twitched into a half smile as she stared into the fire. "And here I thought you weren't listening," she said.

"I apologize," the Ranger said. Rukhash stared at him with a baffled expression. "...For striking you," he explained.

" _Gar_ ," she dismissed his apology with a wave of her clawed hand, "I gave you a fair cuff for it. We'll call it even." Cadoc nodded and slurped some of the broth from his bowl.

Later, after their meal was done and the fire had burned down, Cadoc found himself regarding Rukhash as she slept. She kept her back to the wall and faced the cave entrance, her curved knife clutched to her chest. Occasionally she would grunt or growl in her sleep, quiet sounds that were punctuated by a scrunched nose or the swivel of her pointed ears. He was not sure how long he would stay here to keep her company. At the very least, he needed his leg healed, and Cadoc was not sure how long that would take. Probably the whole of winter. The orcess showed no inclination to help him reach civilization, so it would seem as though he was stuck with her for the foreseeable future. Cadoc decided he would make the best of it. Though predictably coarse, Rukhash seemed fairly amiable in personality. He supposed it would not cause him too much trouble to offer her a little company in recompense for saving his life.

Cadoc sighed. His sister Edda was going to kill him when she discovered he had been alive all this time.

* * *

_**Translations of Orcish (Orkish)...** _

_**zanbaur** _ _: elf son_

_**nar thos** _ _: no balls_

_**tark** _ _: A Man, specifically of Númenorean descent (used to describe the Men of Gondor or, less accurately, Rohan)_

_**gar** _ _: Isengard slang. A shortening of "garn" or "go on"._

* * *

**Last Edited June 2014**


	3. Tunic

**Splint**

**Chapter Three: Tunic**

* * *

_There was sound like a long, driving wind._

_Somewhere below her, in the vast underground labyrinth of Orthanc, a female was shrieking. A swarm of other Uruk hai were pushing past; dozens of tall, dark bodies clamoring over each other in their haste. Rukhash felt as if her feet had been nailed down, her whole body frozen by fear, as a wall of water roared towards her. A soundless scream caught in her throat._

_Strong arms caught her easily around the waist, slinging her over a broad shoulder. She twisted and turned to see those arms belonged to her older brother. His expression terrified her. Haughty Thraangzi, she had never seen him frightened before. They were running with a pack of Uruk, winding up, up the long stairs out of the bowels of Isengard; the river water quickly rising around them. Stragglers were being swept up in the strong current, caught in an onslaught of water that washed them away as if they had never been there. A wave burst forth from one of the adjacent tunnels, engulfing Rukhash and her brother. Thraangzi caught her thin arm in a crushing grip as they were tossed about. Rukhash felt as though her limb would be torn clean from its socket as it twisted unnaturally in the strong current._

_Then, there was only blackness and cold._

_Rukhash woke, for the first time in her young life, outside the tower. Coughing and gasping on the shore of the River Isen. She raised her head to see the spire of Isengard; a dark blot on the horizon. Thraangzi was thumping her between the shoulder blades, and she vomited a rush of slimy water. She had not been wearing much; a loincloth was enough in the labyrinth beneath the tower – cramped as it was with Uruk and goblins – but outside the air was frigid and she was soaked through. Rukhash could not stop shivering, her teeth chattered uncontrollably, but whether it was from cold or fear, she couldn't tell. Uruk hai and snaga orcs were hurrying by them like a line of anxious, drowned rats. A general unease filled the air. An old orcish smith – a friend of her father that Rukhash often aided in the forges – stopped to help Thraangzi pull a still unsteady Rukhash to her feet._

_"The trees!" she heard someone upriver yell. "The trees are coming for us!"_

_"The what?" Rukhash thought dazedly. How could trees be attacking them? She looked up to Thraangzi, hoping for some explanation, but he was staring past her, his amber eyes wide and filled with dread. Rukhash followed his line of sight just as a loud cracking sound echoed around them, and the thick brush at the riverbank parted to reveal a living nightmare. A tree, a moving,_ walking _tree, was rushing towards them with long, loping strides. The world tunneled as the massive oak pulled back a thicket of arm-like branches, and swung at her. Rukhash closed her eyes..._

_A hard slap snapped her head to the side, and Rukhash opened her eyes to the craggy, scowling face of an old female orc._

_"Pay attention, stupid girl," the old woman snarled. They were standing in the middle of a dark, musty room underneath Lugbúrz. The air was thick and humid, not so different from the tunnels of Orthanc, but she was alone here._

_Her brother had been sent above ground to the barracks, and Rukhash was left to aid the women in the breeding pits. She was too young for whelping, so she had been placed in the service of old Grazad, the female in charge of caring for the newborn orclings until they were sturdy enough to train for battle. Any female at Lugbúrz too young or old to bear young and too weak to fight or operate the siege engines was set to this task._

_"It ain't the best way to do such things," Grazad told her, "but it's how The Eye wants it. Just be happy you ain't hauling stone for the catapults."_

_Rukhash's orc grandmother once told her that, in the early years, Sharkey had demanded the manner of assembly-line breeding employed in Mordor. In Isengard, infants had been raised in family units, and orc tribes in other regions raised their young in the same way Rukhash was accustomed to, but beneath the gathering armies on the plains of Gorgoroth, The Eye was building a future army. He had no time for maternal nurturing or familial bonds, and all able females of larger orcish breeds were required to help build that army. Infants were taken from their mothers at birth so the females would be ready to conceive immediately afterward. Young males were sent to train the moment they could stand without assistance, while females were sorted out by size and strength. Some were sent to work in the mines and quarries or given a sword and thrown into battle with their brothers._

_Females that were best suited for bearing young were employed with same task Rukhash now held, serving as midwives and nannies in the pits until they were able to share their mother's place. Rukhash watched many females die in the darkness, too exhausted from previous pregnancies to bear another child, and she helped old Grazad split more than one she orc open to save a whelp before its mother died. Rukhash knew one day that would be her place in the order of things: bearing young for her Master, producing the future generations of soldiers and slaves that kept Mordor running._

_She maneuvered through the winding tunnels with familiar ease. There were little ones to care for, and Grazad was a hard taskmaster. The old bint was always on her for one thing or another. Rukhash bristled, because she knew she was snaga now. She would have no status until she was old enough to bear young. Then, an Uruk Captain would be chosen for her to couple with, and at least she could call herself a Breeder, if nothing else. It certainly wasn't the worst title in the world. That's what her mother had been. Even though the Uruk hai females of Isengard enjoyed slightly more freedom than their Mordor counterparts – they considered themselves a tribe, after all – it did not make them any less bound to their task of supplying warriors for their Master's army._

_Rukhash had not seen her brother in weeks, and she wondered how he fared above ground. Thraangzi was older than her by a decade, and more than capable of handling himself, but Rukhash missed him. She missed her father. She missed her mother and sisters and even those of her kin that she had never really liked. A small part of her hoped they also survived the flooding, but she knew that was nearly impossible. If they had lived, they would have been drawn to Mordor, just as she and Thraangzi were._

_Her charges were arranged in rows of tiny pallets. Orc and Uruk infants did not squall loudly. Instinct and generations of constant threat had taught them to mewl quietly when annoyed or uncomfortable. An orc child only cried out under pain, so despite the large number of tiny orclings in the room, it was relatively quiet. At least here she was useful. She had young that depended on her, and for a few brief moments, it was as if The Eye's constant malice was quiet in her mind. A sort of peace settled over Rukhash and she let out a long breath in a great whoosh of air. She bent over the first little bundle as she soaked the milking cloth, but when she pulled back the blanket, she recoiled in horror._

_The little orc she was ready to feed had large grey eyes and a straight nose, its chin covered in hair. It was a tiny Cadoc face, staring up at her. The ground suddenly rumbled beneath her, and she turned to find dozens of wailing Cadocs screaming at the top of their lungs as debris peppered down from the shaking cavern ceiling._

Rukhash startled awake. The fire had burned itself out, and across from her Cadoc was sleeping peacefully. Resting a steadying hand on her pounding heart, Rukhash took a deep, calming breath. She was in her cave on the side of the mountain, not beneath  _Lugbúrz_  as it crumbled, or standing before a wall of pitiless water underneath Isengard. The cave had gone cold in the crisp evening, so Rukhash threw some wood on the nearly dead fire, and eased the flames back to life with a gentle breath. Her  _tark_  charge seemed unchanged from the night before. She noted his unhindered breathing, and his scent had lost the fevered taint that lingered in the first few weeks of his unconscious stay with her.

 _I been too concerned with him,_  she realized.  _I need to get out and hunt today. He should be fine on his own for a few hours._  Her half memories had been unsettling. While it was good to finally have a conversation with someone after her long stretch of loneliness, Rukhash was feeling restless. She was accustomed to coming and going as she pleased, but had barely left the cave while she cared for Cadoc. Now that this man was healing, she would be able to get back on a normal schedule. There would be an extra mouth to feed this winter, and Rukhash was not at all pleased with her current cache of food.

By the time Cadoc woke, Rukhash was enveloped in layers of fur and leather, her bow and arrows slung over her shoulder. She unceremoniously shoved a bowl of broth and bread in his lap and headed out into the crisp morning air before he could say, "Good morning." Cadoc found himself at a loss. The splint limited his mobility, and he was still sore in the torso. He imagined Rukhash would be displeased if he managed to exacerbate his injuries in her absence.

She had been thoughtful enough to leave his knife near his bed. "Just in case," she'd said. The cave was quiet; the fire had been fed earlier and danced merry and warm. Feeling comfortable and relatively safe, Cadoc allowed himself to doze.

It was an odd situation he found himself in. His experience with orcs had, until very recently, been limited to battle, and he realized how little he actually knew about them as a people. If he were completely honest, it hadn't even occurred to him that they  _were_  people until now. Not that they had given him much cause to do otherwise.

His eyes drooped and he recalled troubling memories.

_The stench of burning flesh was sharp and strong. Cadoc pulled his cloak up to cover his nose, stepping across the threshold of a ruined cottage. This was one of the few homes not reduced to rubble in the wake of the marauding orcs that passed through these lands. The War had ended, but Cadoc found a ranger's work was hardly done. There were still fierce mobs of wayward Mordor soldiers stalking the lands of South Ithilien, and many of the brave men that had started settlements here had fallen in the orcs' destructive path._

_Inside, the contents of the home were strewn about as though struck by a merciless storm. The heavy oak table in the kitchen was overturned and pots and pans littered the tiny room. The door had been shattered by an unyielding force and was scattered about in splintered pieces. Then, of course, there was the blood. Here, it was just a light splattering against the far wall, but Cadoc followed the trail with his eyes into the main room, where a body lay crumpled in an unnatural position. Taking a rallying breath to steady himself – for as often as he had come across such a scene, it still affected him – Cadoc maneuvered through the ruined kitchen and into the sitting room, where the hearth fire had long ago burned out._

_"Valar be damned," Cadoc swore bitterly, as the gruesome scene unfolded before him._

_In the center of the room was a woman. She may have been fair before this horrible end, but now her face was gored so heavily with claw marks that Cadoc could scarcely distinguish any features. She had been cleaved through the middle, and the dark trail of her insides had obviously been gnawed at as they spilled across the wooden floor. There was a child, a young boy of perhaps ten or eleven winters, with his limbs nearly torn off. His stab wounds were numerous and he, too, had been partially eaten. Cadoc felt a little bile rise in his throat. The air was thick with the corpses' rotting, and large black flies danced upon them._

_A tiny sound, a pained coo, caught the Ranger's attention. It was barely audible above the buzzing insects, but Cadoc managed to follow it to a large wardrobe in the corner. He cleared away some debris blocking the front, and opened the door to reveal another, smaller child. It was a young girl, so covered in soot and ash and muck that she was black as any orc. Cadoc knelt before the girl, who stared at him with large, hazel eyes, her breath coming in quick, terrified gasps._

_"It's all right," Cadoc said soothingly, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder. "I'm not going to do you any harm." The child trembled beneath his hand, but otherwise remained silent. Cadoc pulled her from the wardrobe. She shivered against him as he carried her from the wreckage._

He and several others of his order finally rode down the group of beasts a day later, and they slew each orc to the last. There had been an overwhelming feeling of justice done as he pitched those bodies into the fire. That girl's haunted eyes echoed in his mind.

Rukhash didn't seem like the wild creatures he'd slain in the past, even if she was a bit crass. Most orcs Cadoc encountered were more eager to cleave your head from your shoulders than talk to you, and the few orcish settlements he'd ridden into were hastily thrown together shanty towns; places where raiders, cutthroats and thieves – both orcish  _and_  mannish – could gather. An uneasy feeling settled in him. Some of those settlements most likely contained females and young, but one could never tell the difference until the battle was done and the corpses were gathered for burning. Orc women and young fought alongside the males with an equal viciousness and penchant for malice. They had always seemed like a strangely homogenous race, a sea of snarling, sharp toothed faces to be felled before they felled  _you_. Cadoc had rarely examined the bodies of orcs before he pitched them into the fire.

Though he did not seek out orcs to hunt them in earnest, Cadoc also did not think very highly of them as a whole. He had seen enough of their ugliness to decide that he wanted nothing to do with them. Only wicked men trekked with orcs, and Cadoc, admittedly, was more likely to slay an orc in passing than to greet it. If their positions were reversed, he wouldn't have saved Rukhash from a messy death at the jaws of a wolf. The fact that an orc had shown him more mercy than he would have offered in return was troubling on a fundamental level.

Until now, he had never given the hunting of orcs a second thought. Most villages welcomed rangers and orc hunters as heroes, and Cadoc had, on more than one occasion, benefitted from that adoration, but the need for such forward, unrelenting measures had lessened considerably over the years. Over a decade after the War, it was rare for orcs to venture near civilization, and the orc hunters had to range further and further into the wilderness to find their bounty. It was practically impossible to find them now, unless one was exclusively looking for them. Lately, there were even talks of invading southern Nûrn in force now that the armies of Gondor had amassed anew and northern Ithilien, Emyn Arnen and Southern Gondor had been cleared of The Shadow's minions. That area was said to be rife with orcs, even after they had been driven out of Gorgoroth and Lithlad, the area north of the Sea fo Nûrnen.

Cadoc was not an orc hunter by trade, so his interests had never lied with searching out orcs now that they were in hiding. As a Ranger of the South, his duty was securing Gondor's borders and, barring that being done already, protecting the population; not riding into foreign countries to seek out monsters hiding in the dark corners of the world. Cadoc could not remember the last time he fought an uruk or greater orc. It had to have been years. In fact, most of his time was spent tracking down mannish outlaws – many his own countrymen – or escorting peasant folk through the dwindling wilderness east of the Anduin.

Because of the relative peace in his homeland, something Cadoc could honestly say was novel for the sheer fact that he had never seen it before, he rode north this past season into the Southern Downs; accepting the invitation from Northern Rangers of The Angle – distant relations on his grandfather's side. They had not once come across a single orc or the remnants of an orcish party, even when they skirted the Misty Mountains, and that land was known to be accosted by them. The whole season had been mostly quiet, aside from a stray bandit apprehended in Bree. He would have considered it a waste of time, save the fact that he was able to speak Sindarin among the few, remaining elves of Imladris. Rivendell was known far and wide as a place of great beauty, and Cadoc found, during his brief stay, that it did not disappoint.

When he'd parted ways with his comrades to winter at his home village in Lebennin, he remembered thinking that the Shadow's threat was finally gone, and his continued service may no longer be necessary. In many ways, Cadoc was a relic of a more bloody time, when darkness threatened the borders and the forests of Ithilien echoed with orcish war cries and the distant rumble of iron clad feet. That time was long gone, and many of the rangers he once rode with were now part of Lord Faramir's honor guard or the White Company. It made Cadoc sad that, at forty-two, he may need to invest in a different profession. He was even beginning to begrudgingly consider finding another wife to ease his sister's urgings. Then, his horse had lost its footing, the wolves found him and he woke up in an orc's cave halfway up the mountain.

Cadoc knew Rukhash would not be so kindly disposed towards him if she knew his occupation. She was lonely here, but he doubted her desire for company would trump her desire to slay someone who had killed so many of her kind.

* * *

The sky had dimmed to a vibrant blue by the time Rukhash returned. Forcing his mind to settle after an afternoon of restless thought, Cadoc had started to drift off just as she crossed the threshold, bowed under a large pack. With growling, cursing struggle beneath the weight on her shoulders, she descended from the mouth of the cave, and threw down her burden with a grunt.

"Do you need any help?" Cadoc offered, feeling useless as the orc woman began liberating her bundle.

"None you could give right now," Rukhash replied cheerfully.

Cadoc smiled hesitantly at that. At least she was in a good mood.

"Ah!" she purred as she undid the last tie, "We eat like kings tonight." Cadoc blinked as the bloodied, old leather fell away. Wrapped in the sack was a large, wild pig. A few broken arrows poked out of its neck and its eyes rolled back to the whites. The orcess had already gutted it, probably to decrease its weight. She began to pile more wood on the fire to cook it.

He was a little startled she had managed to fell such a large animal on her lonesome. Cadoc almost questioned her methods, but quickly decided against it. Now that she had returned, he experienced the familiar unease of the previous night. Beneath the blanket he was still naked, and he felt troublingly vulnerable; even with his hunting knife at hand.

Still, it was a welcomed meal after the thin broth she had given him; though he did have to request she cook his portion a little more thoroughly. Rukhash ate her meat nearly raw and with a the wild ravenousness Cadoc would expect from a beast. Tentatively chewing his own supper, he decided that, as long as she did not turn those teeth on  _him_ , he shouldn't complain about her table manners.

After they had eaten their fill, there was still a fair amount of swine left. Rukhash went about cutting the pig down into thin strips for drying, ignoring him and singing to herself in her horrible language as she separated the fat, meat and bone, creating neat piles according to length and thickness and tossing the fat into a wide bowl.

Cadoc watched her meticulous, cheerful cataloging and wondered why she hadn't sought out others of her kind. She seemed fairly skilled in several areas. She may not be the hateful monster he expected orcs to be, but she didn't seem crippled by gentleness. Cadoc tongued at the tooth she had knocked loose the night before. Considering the callousness with which her kind had been routed out in the past, he wasn't sure he wanted to ask outright. He imagined whatever answer she gave him would not be pleasant.

Soon, the meat was skewered, placed near the fire to dry, and the fat was rendering in a small, iron pot near the coals. Rukhash settled near Cadoc with a pile of buckskin in her lap and a long, thick needle.

"I'm making you a tunic," she told him without prompting.

Cadoc gave her a puzzled look. "Why?" he asked. He felt she had already done enough for him.

"Them old rags you were wearing were mostly ruined," she explained. "I used yer shirt for bindings, and there weren't much of your trousers after I cut them off."

"You cut them off?"

The orcess gave him a clever smile. "Bone was poking through," she explained, wiggling her finger in a stitched hole. "Think a tunic'll do just fine for now. You won't be walking around any time soon."

That didn't bring Cadoc any great comfort, still... "Thank you," he said.

Rukhash looked up from her work with a lopsided grin. "Eh," she shrugged, "gives me somethin' ta do. 'Sides, you're better fer company than a pile of stones." Rukhash seemed pleased with herself, or perhaps the situation in general, as she continued sewing. A strangely companionable silence stretched between them in which Cadoc thought of a million questions that he wanted to ask, but most seemed like a gateway to more disagreeable topics.

Still, as he watched her sew a seam with even, tight stitches, his curiosity was getting the better of him. Considering the frequency with which they robbed, Cadoc expected that orcs stole most of what they possessed. Glancing askew at the pot of water she was using to render the fat, Cadoc frowned thoughtfully. "Where did you learn to do all this?"

"Do all what?" she chirped, focused on her work.

"All  _this_ ," Cadoc emphasized, gesturing outwards. "Where did you learn to set broken legs and make oils and cure hides and fletch arrows?"

Rukhash narrowed her eyes. "You mean  _living_?" she said darkly. "Who taught  _you_  how ta fall off horses?"

"I didn't mean to insult you. I just...didn't know orcs knew how..."

" _Thûlk!_ ," she barked, glaring at him indignantly, and Cadoc snapped his mouth shut. Angry, Rukhash continued sewing, but the silence that stretched between them became significantly less companionable.

"My mum taught me, since you're asking," Rukhash stated suddenly. There was a prideful tone to her voice. "And her mum taught her and on and the like. Who do you think built Orthanc? Or forged the arms for the war? Or made everyone's  _clothes_? That sort a thing don't magic into bein', even if there're wizards about to do the magicking."

"I assumed Saruman and Sauron had slaves to do that sort of thing," Cadoc said.

Rukhash stilled and regarded him with a grim frown. "They did," she said quietly, "and we were, all of us, happy to do it, even with whips on our back." She turned away from him and stared off into nothing, her brow knitting.

"Masters're troublesome things," she said finally. "Especially when they're always urging you on, always pressin' on you, 'til you're not sure if the hateful thoughts you're thinking are yers or theirs. You don't even care to know, until they've popped off, and all that rage they put in you has drained out, and you feel sort of...empty. Like, you're not sure what should be put there instead."

"What did _you_ put there?" the ranger asked quietly.

Rukhash's face scrunched up into an indescribable expression. Cadoc was sure she was going to cry, but she blinked it away so quickly, he thought he imagined it. Then, she let out a long breath through her nose, and fixed him with a sad smile. "Ain't nothin' for it," Rukhash started, her tone lighter. "Makes me think troublin' thoughts. Why don't you tell me how you ended up on the pointy side of a wolf?"

" _Ah_..." Cadoc stammered. "There's not much to tell. I was returning home. My horse slipped and threw me. When I woke, the wolves were upon us."

"Why were you all the way out here?" Rukhash asked, "There's not a village of men for miles."

Cadoc swallowed, "I...recently decided...to...leave my former profession." This was not completely true. While the life of a ranger might be greatly changed from what it was, he would most likely continue to protect and serve the people of Gondor in some capacity. However, Cadoc could see no benefit in elaborating further. The more he explained the closer Rukhash might be to guessing his true profession.

"Oh? Why's that?" Rukhash asked.

Though her tone was not accusatory, only curious, Cadoc found himself grasping for an answer. "I've begun to find the work...tiresome."

"Suppose that's as best a reason there is," Rukhash nodded sagely. "So what's home for you? Have a girl waiting on you?" She finished with a rakish smirk. Cadoc gaped stupidly, a little taken aback by the mundane nature of this conversation. Orcish small talk was eerily similar to ordinary small talk. And, honestly, did all women harp on the same tune?

"No," he said at last.

"Hn," she grunted, "not the settling down type?"

Cadoc was glad that her attention was set on the tunic she was sewing, and not his rapidly blushing face. "I have tried it before," he answered, a little surprised by his own honesty. "It didn't work out."

"Yea?" Rukhash raised her brow in interest. "What happened there?"

Cadoc was not in the habit of spreading gossip, and in truth his former marriage was many years behind him. Much of the hurt he felt afterwards had dissipated into a grudging understanding and personal guilt. "I didn't spend enough time at home, I suppose." There was more to it than that, but Cadoc did not feel comfortable discussing the particulars with an orc, even one as friendly as Rukhash.

"That's it?" Rukhash said with a disappointed frown, as though she was hoping for something a little more juicy. "Didn't you look after her?"

"I suppose I did," Cadoc replied. "I provided for her, but women demand a little more than monetary compensation from their husbands."

"My mum's mate spent most of his time away," Rukhash snorted. "Most males did. If orc girls were  _that_  particular they wouldn't have a mate at all."

Cadoc did not consider Ingrid's demands of him as a husband to be all that particular. If anything, Cadoc had, if not readily, at least begrudgingly, agreed to her terms of their separation. Her grievances were well founded. She had been patient with him for many years, both during the War and after, but Cadoc's wanderlust ran deep, and Ingrid's patience had run out.

Though, he was suddenly struck with the way Rukhash spoke of her sire. "Your  _father_ , you mean." Cadoc stated, hoping the she orc would clarify her detached reference.

"Kragolnauk weren't my dad," she replied as she continued her sewing. "He were my mum's  _shaûk_."

"Her  _what_?"

"'At's like a partner, I'd guess," the orcess answered with a thoughtful tap to her chin. "He made sure she were looked after while she were knocked up and he spent most of his time with her when he were home, but he weren't responsible for making  _all_ of her kids, especially  _me_."

Orcish marriages sounded remarkably open ended to Cadoc. "What do you mean," he asked at length, "especially  _you?"_

Rukhash glanced up at him from the bundle in her lap, the corner of her mouth curled up in a humorless smirk. "Can't tell the difference in orcish breeds, can you?" she said, but cut him off before he could answer. "That's fine. Can't say I can tell the difference between you whiteskin folk."

Cadoc felt that was an unfair accusation. He had a fairly good grasp of the differences between goblins and Uruks and Uruk hai. He had spent enough time fighting them to tell them apart. "I don't see how that answers my question."

"If you  _could_  tell," Rukhash started, finally abandoning the tunic in her lap to face him directly, "then you'd know I'm a mongrel." The ranger's mouth hung open for a moment, as if he meant to say something, but Rukhash pressed on with her explanation. "My dad were a smith from Nûrn come north to serve in the forges. Uruk hai girls," Rukhash continued, "ain't nearly short as I am. My mum and sisters would've stood tall as you and almost as broad in the shoulders. My nan were big enough to catch your skull in her jaws and crush it in one go."

"That old goat of a wizard bred my mum's folk from orc tribes in the far north. Dragged 'em down all the way from Angmar, that's where my nan were from, and mixed 'em with Dunlander blood so's they could bear the sun better." Rukhash snorted peevishly, and Cadoc imagined she had strong opinions pertaining to the schemes of Saruman.

"Nûrn folk," Rukhash went on, "are a spindlier sort. All long limbs, and not much height for it. Dad wouldn't 'ave come much taller than yer chest. I favor my mum in looks, but I've got my old dad's shortness."

The Ranger found himself a little speechless. He had assumed her shorter stature and slighter build were due to her gender, and not a mixed heritage. Cadoc tried to imagine the massive female Rukhash's mother must have been, and shuddered at the thought of her monstrous grandmother.

"I didn't realize," Cadoc admitted at length. "Were you treated poorly for it?"

" _Sha_ ," Rukhash spat, "I caught a little flack fer bein' such a runt, but if anythin' Kragolnauk were a little better towards me than my sisters. He ignored them entirely most of the time. He was too busy training his boys or bonkin' around with my mum."

"What do you mean," Cadoc said suspiciously, "by  _better_  towards you?"

"He were a little nicer," she answered with a raised brow, "a bit more patient. Made sure I stayed out of trouble, and my dad saw that he and his lads had finer blades for it. Dad spent all 'is time in the forges. Didn't get ta see 'im much, but 'e made sure I were looked after."

"A bribe?" Despite himself, Cadoc felt a small, grudging respect for Rukhash's faceless father. If anything, her sire had good intentions towards his daughter.

"I guess," Rukhash said with a shrug. "By rights, I shouldn't 'ave been allowed to live. Old Sharkey didn't want his fine breed of uruks tainted with  _snaga_  blood, but since I was female, mum didn't think he would pay any mind. That dodgy old sod only cared about his army, he never bothered with the females in the dens, so mum didn't see any harm in keeping me."

"Your  _mother_  told you this?" Cadoc was incredulous. How could a woman, even an orcish one, tell her daughter such a thing?

The Ranger's accusatory tone made Rukhash's hackles rise. "Course she did," Rukhash retorted. "Told me to stay away from the fucking wizard so he wouldn't guess at it, and I stayed away from the fucking wizard! He scared the shit outta me."

Indeed, Cadoc could believe that Saruman would terrify a child of any race. Reigning in his quick judgement of her mother, he frowned thoughtfully at the mental image of a tiny Rukhash cowering in the shadows as the imposing White Wizard stalked the halls of Isengard. What would have Saruman done to her, he wondered, if she had been found out? Cadoc didn't have the nerve to ask.

"Here, try this on," Rukhash ordered as she tossed the tunic at him. "You see if that fits before I finish it off, and I'll have a look at this leg of yours."

Cadoc pulled the half-finished tunic over his head. It was a little baggy, but he had lost some weight over the past few weeks. Rukhash loosed the splint and cut the bandages at his leg. There was some sickly bruising around the stitching, and his calf was growing thin. Other than that, it seemed clear of infection and the bone was set straight. His leg was sore, but not unbearably so. Cadoc was not versed in the finer aspects of healing, but he imagined it must be healing well.

"This is coming along nicely," Rukhash confirmed. "You won't be hopping about tomorrow, but it's mending." She spread a dark salve over the wound and rewrapped his leg with a clean binding before she reattached the splint.

"This fits well," Cadoc told her, referring to the tunic.

She nodded and he placed it in her waiting hand. "I'll see to it tonight, then," she told him.

They did not exchange words as she sat down and retrieved her needle. Cadoc watched her with renewed interest. The ranger felt as though he had learned more about her race in the span of the last few minutes than he had in his entire life. She had a curious heritage.

"So, you are also part Dunlending?" he queried, interested in her mannish ancestry. Perhaps that was where her agreeable nature stemmed from.

Rukhash smiled to herself. "Yea, my granddad were from Dunland stock," she confirmed, her bright eyes shining for a moment. "Don't remember him much, 'cept that he were a hairy bastard. Died when I was still just a little blighter." She fixed him with a genuine smile, her crooked fang peeking from her bottom lip. "It's why I saved you, you know," she said.

Cadoc looked suddenly startled. "Really?"

"I might not remember him well," Rukhash explained, "but from what I do remember, he were a nice old git. Always used to bring me and my sisters presents from the raids."

Cadoc's brow drew into a tight knot above his nose, and he felt much of his benevolent feelings towards this creature evaporate with the memories of the many Rohirrim refugees that poured into Western Gondor during the War. "The raids," he parroted tonelessly. "And how many Rohirrim children died for your  _presents_?"

Rukhash favored him with a bored expression, as if he had just recited the dullest story ever told, but Cadoc caught a slight lifting of her lip, and the flash of dangerous, sharp teeth. "Ain't sure," was her cool reply, and there was malice in her even, rumbling tone. "Probably just about as many as there are orc whelps at the bottom of the River Isen."

"You really want to sit here," she continued slowly in the wake of his raw silence, "and go eye fer eye with the wrongs our folk have done to each other? Because whatever you'd like to slag at me, I'm sure I can reverse the charge. Don't see what that'll do, though, 'cept piss us both off. You want to sit there and wind yourself up, that's yer own damn business, but if I decided to dwell on all my kin dead at the hands of your lot, I'm liable to slit your fucking throat."

Rukhash's attention went back to her work. She stabbed at the tunic with an unnecessary ferocity. The air between them was filled with heavy silence as the fire spat and crackled. Her not-so-subtle threat did not go unnoticed. Cadoc watched her furious stitching with a sick feeling in his gut. He hated to admit it, but the orcess had a point. The flooding of Isengard, the slaughter of her people after the War; those events most likely looked very different from her perspective.

 _Not that they didn't_ earn _it_ , Cadoc reminded himself, but he was also forced to acknowledge that he was a guest in this orc woman's home, and alive because of her intervention. It seemed oddly unfair to blame her for the actions of others; not when she was overlooking the slights his people had done upon  _her_.

Her cheerful attitude and attempt at small talk made much more sense all of a sudden. She was most likely trying to avoid discussions pertaining to the animosity between their folk. Cadoc decided it was probably in his best interest to follow her lead.

"It's a very nice cave you have here," Cadoc said at last, deciding a change of subject was in order.

"Is it?" Rukhash snorted, looking around at the dark, stone walls with a thoughtful expression. "I guess it is...Took forever to clean the troll stink out, though."

The ranger blinked owlishly at that. "A troll lived here?" He hadn't seen a troll since the War. Cadoc honestly thought they had vanished altogether.

"Big as life and twice as nasty, he was," she nodded, her tone suddenly bright. "Nearly killed me. Fortunately trolls is about the stupidest damn things alive, and I had him chasing me 'round the forest when the sun came up, crazy bastard. And I hadn't done nothin' for the trouble he wanted to put on me, mind you."

He realized, as the orcess prattled on about her narrow escape at the jaws of a troll, that she was excited to tell this story. Rukhash seemed more than content to drop the darker, more argumentative parts of their conversation. Her voice became more animated as she regaled him with a less offensive tale of her past, and Cadoc smiled at her antics as she gestured wildly in the course of her recounting; imitating the growls of the troll as he attacked her and huffing as if she were actually running away from it. She was quite a storyteller.

"He's still there," she said pointing due south, bringing her story to an obvious close, "stony cunt that he is. Serves 'im right."

There was a rehearsed way to how she recited the tale, her reenactment well practiced, as if she had been telling it to herself for a long while now. He wondered how true it was. A horrible thought worried at the edge of his mind. What did one do after  _years_  of solitude; without a friendly face in the world? Perhaps she  _had_  told herself this story before, if only to hear the sound of a voice.

Burying that sad thought, Cadoc fixed her with a quiet smile. "You'll have to show me when this leg is mended. I've never seen a troll gone to stone before."

"No, eh? Then I will," Rukhash said with a cheerful grin.

That night Cadoc slept with a new tunic on.

* * *

**Translations**

_**Thûlk** _ _!: Enough!_

_**Skai/Sha** _ _: Gah,Arg; an exclamation_

* * *

**Last Edited: June 2014**


	4. Promises

**Splint  
Chapter Four: Promises**

* * *

They fell into an easy rhythm as the days turned into weeks. Much to Cadoc's surprise, cohabiting with Rukhash was troublingly effortless. She spent the greater portion of her day hunting in preparation for the heavy snows of the coming winter, and most of her nights involved drying meat or scraping skins or making various balms and strange smelling brews. Though he was not sure what most of her concoctions were for, he supposed he should be grateful that she had so many remedies on hand. Hhe owed his life to her preparedness.

The ranger supposed he could find himself in worse situations. As hostesses went, Rukhash had gone out of her way to make him comfortable. Their conversation had remained limited to innocuous topics like the weather or the patterns of game in the surrounding area. Cadoc was amazed by Rukhash's extensive knowledge of orcish metallurgy, which he discovered she learned by assisting her father in the forges of Isengard. Smithing blades was an occupation that Cadoc had, as an accomplished swordsman, always been interested in, though he lacked the talent and patience required in metal working. Still, he was content to discuss the pros and cons of various ores and alloys and casting techniques, and she seemed just as content to impart the information. Though, Rukhash had not touched a smithing hammer since she was a girl, she still carried a real fondness for the craft.

Both of them were very careful to omit more provocative topics, or to steer a conversations away from a subject that either would find disagreeable. Though, if he were honest with himself, Cadoc had to admit that there were some questions he burned to ask, even if the answers disturbed him. Her daily routine seemed so  _normal_. Cadoc wasn't sure what he expected orcs to do all day when they weren't sowing mayhem, but it certainly wasn't drying meat and mending clothing. But he was concerned that he would offend her after their terse exchange a few weeks before. After all, he was dependent on her good graces. If her benevolent opinion of him somehow changed while he was still injured, he knew that he could not fight her off. She may not have shared the gargantuan size of a full blooded Uruk hai, but she was deceptively strong.

Even now she exercised that strength by dismantling a deer carcass with far less effort than a man twice her size. Stripped down to her thin under tunic, she knelt over her kill, separating it into more manageable pieces for drying using only her long, curved blade and brute force. She seemed particularly feral in the dying sunlight, its red glow backlighting her, so that she appeared to be a glowing silhouette, her bright eyes shining in her shadowed face. Yet despite this fearsome scene, Cadoc was amused to note the bridge of her nose was dappled with light grey spots, very similar to freckles. They gave the orcess a youthful appearance, despite her more beastial, alien features.

She was definitely not a child. His brief glimpse of her half naked body confirmed that easily enough, but she did look quite young. "How old are you?" Cadoc asked her suddenly.

Rukhash looked up from her bloody task with a blank look. "What?" she replied tiredly. Sweat was beading up on her brow, and she wiped it away, leaving a trail of bright blood in its place.

"How old?" Cadoc repeated, shifting so he could better face her.

Rukhash sat back on her heels, counting to herself; mumbling under her breath as her eyes scanned memory. "Er...twenty-three? Maybe twenty-four. Can't be sure, really. I never bothered keepin' track. Twenty-three sounds 'bout right."

"Is that old for an orc?" Cadoc asked, honestly unsure. He had never known an orc well enough to ask its age.

With a careless shrug, Rukhash leaned back over the deer, continuing her work. "Yes, and no," she answered vaguely. "Most lads don't live past their teens, what with all the fightin' they do, but twenty's still young. Knew some mean old codgers back in Mordor that were in their hundreds."

This was the first time she had mentioned Mordor, and Cadoc found himself more interested in  _that_  than a hundred year old orc. "I thought you hailed from Isengard," he said, thinking it a fair inquiry. She had already mentioned as much.

Rukhash did not reply. She ran her pink tongue quickly over the sides of her blade, licking the blood off before sheathing it; unaware of Cadoc's disgusted grimace. Gathering up the chunks of meat she had butchered, the orcess began to skewer them on long sticks. Putting aside the troubling image of her licking a blade, Cadoc began to wonder if she intended to answer him at all. Perhaps it was something she did not wish to discuss...

"I do," Rukhash said at last, "but after the flood, those of us that managed to sneak past the trees headed ta Mordor. The Eye were calling us."

Cadoc was quiet for a long while, trying to imagine the enormous sway the Dark Lord held over his ferocious subjects. The trip from Isengard to Mordor was not an easy one, and Rukhash would have had to pass through leagues of enemy territory to reach the shadowed lands. "What did you do in Mordor?" Cadoc asked, unable to stem his dangerous curiosity.

"This and that," Rukhash said shrugging. She really didn't want to recall her experiences under Lugbúrz in great detail. They were not particularly unpleasant – not until the end, that is – but she wasn't sure Cadoc would understand what happened there; the separation of the children from their mothers, the breeding pits. Rukhash did not relish his reproving glare. It made their conversations much less enjoyable when he was looking down his nose at her. "Patched lads up a lot, but mostly I looked after little orclings."

"You had children?" Cadoc asked, surprised. Did orcs mature so quickly? She couldn't have been more than twelve during The War, if his math was right.

" _Nar!_ " she laughed, setting the last skewer near the fire and moving to sit beside him."I was too young for _that_!" Cadoc felt somewhat relieved by that statement and he wasn't sure why. With a damp cloth, she wiped the blood from her face and hands. "I were a midwife an' a nursemaid," Rukhash continued. "I saw to the newborns."

Cadoc tried to imagine a prepubescent Rukhash rocking dozens of squalling infants, telling them to 'hush and be good, little orcs'. For some reason, this mental version of her had pigtails, and he caught the inside of his cheek between his molars to suppress his laughter. "I can see why you've been so nurturing," Cadoc said with a smile. "You've had lots of practice."

Rukhash rolled her eyes and shrugged. " _Skai_ , they whined less than you," she teased. "So how old're you then? There's a bit of grey in that hair a yers, so you can't be too young."

Cadoc huffed and crossed his arms. "I'm forty-two," he replied casually. "Still in my prime, in case you were wondering," he said with a pointed look.

Rukhash snorted at that. "So I suppose that makes you old enough to have been fighting during the War, eh granddad?" Rukhash smirked at his deflated expression.

Cadoc wondered, briefly, how much further he should continue this conversation. The she orc's tone was light, but the War was an obvious sore spot for both of them. "I rode east with the men of Lebennin," Cadoc replied soberly.

Rukhash nodded and poked at the fire with a stray stick. "My brother fought on Pelennor Field," Rukhash said quietly.

Cadoc remembered that battle well. The dark hoard had decimated Minas Tirith, and for a brief moment, all hope seemed lost. However, the barges meant to supply the orcish regimen with Umbar soldiers proved to be filled with the ghostly wraiths of long dead Knights of Dunharrow. They made short work of their enemies, who could do no damage to their foes, and fell in droves beneath the specters' glowing blades.

"I was there," Cadoc admitted, shaking off the ghastly memory. Though the spirits had been on his side of things, Cadoc could not help the unease he had felt in their presence. He could not imagine what had gone through the minds of the orcs cut down that day. "Did he survive?" Cadoc wasn't sure any of the dark host had survived the assault by the Army of the Dead.

Rukhash confirmed this with a miserable shake of her head, and Cadoc could sense the sorrow that filled her. He had never considered orcish soldiers to be fathers and brothers and sons. Whatever her brother was in life, his death affected Rukhash profoundly, and in that moment she was not an orc, but a grieving sister.

Cadoc laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off half-heartedly. "I never would've known, 'cept one of his sniveling captains managed to save his own hide," she said in a shaking voice. "He told me later, after The Fall, when we was all on the run. I wanted to go back to find Thraangzi, I thought if any lived it would've been him, but I learned otherwise."

"I'm sorry," Cadoc said lamely. No words truly comforted such a loss, and it was obvious to Cadoc that she was still pained by it, even after all these years.  _She and her brother must have been very close_ , he thought sadly.

Rukhash gave him a long, baleful stare, but dropped her eyes and sighed. "War's war," she said. "There ain't nothin' for it now, I suppose. I'm sure you lost your fair share of kin." Cadoc was not sure he could say that was entirely true. He had lost many comrades, many men that he considered good friends, but his home village was remote and spared the battles. Cadoc was one of the lucky few that had not lost family, but he nodded anyway.

"What happened after you fled Mordor?" Cadoc asked quietly.

"After?" Rukhash replied. She wasn't sure she wanted to talk about  _after The War_. She was still living  _after_. "You know the answer to that, don't you?" Rukhash felt surprisingly calm, despite all she had lost.  _Perhaps I have raged all the rage out of me_ , she thought.

"Do I?" Cadoc began to feel worried. She seemed temperate enough, but there was a large accusation in her question.

"I ain't  _simple,_  you know," Rukhash said turning a scathing eye on him. "You think I never seen a Ranger's cloak? Or them fancy swords you all carry? And what fool, other than your lot, would be wandering the wilderness on his own?"

Cadoc felt all of his small words catch in his throat. She  _knew_ he was a ranger?  _Of course she knew,_  he realized.  _How many times has she had to evade us, I wonder?_

"So, why save me then?" he asked with just as much suspicion. "Those wolves would have killed me, and you wouldn't have had to lift a finger. Were you so lonely that my past deeds meant  _nothing_?"

It was true that she knew what he was from the beginning. Rukhash had been wrestling with her decision to bring Cadoc to her cave for the past week, and she came to realize it had to do with more than filling the void of her solitude. A part of her wanted him to  _understand_.

"Fair is fair," she said at length. Cadoc's confused expression demanded an explanation. "I know there were plenty of lads after the war that kept causing your folk trouble, and they made a heap of trouble for the rest of us."

"An' I know..." she paused for a moment, and swallowed uneasily, unsure of how to put this delicately. "I know my lot has always been a little...heavy handed...when it come to your folk–"

"A  _little_  heavy handed?" Cadoc interjected furiously. "A  _little!"_  Rukhash could see the barely concealed rage in the Ranger's eyes. "Your  _lot_  has raped and murdered its way across my country, and you consider that a _little_  heavy handed? Do you know how many lives your kind has destroyed? How many sons and daughters your people have ravaged and maimed? I think you would choose your words more wisely if you saw the children orphaned and mothers now grieving for their sons, if it's even possible for your kind to feel an ounce of compassion at all."

She had been silent through his whole tirade, quietly willing herself not to overreact. They had been getting along fairly well for the past few weeks. She should have expected that peace to be broken sooner or later. Rukhash released a long breath she did not realize she was holding. The pressure at the corner of her eyes made her blink miserably.

"What do you know about anything?" she replied thickly through gritted teeth. She tried to force the sorrow back down, but already she could feel the hot tears on her face. "I were just a girl when I lost my dad and mum and sisters and then my brother and  _then_ , after it were all said and done and the War was finished your folk still wanted more. So I loose my clan and my mate  _and_  my whelps and now I'm here with  _nothing_."

She was trembling with fury. "I don't need to see them women or them kids because I  _was_  one!" she shrieked, "and I thought for a moment to take that out on  _you_  while you were bleeding out, but I didn't. I didn't blame  _you_  because that weren't fair, because I didn't think it were right to make you pay for shit you  _didn't do_."

Cadoc watched helplessly as the she-orc turned away and dissolved into wordless sobbing, her shoulders shaking silently. He could think of nothing to say in the wake of her outburst. Tears from an orc seemed just as unbelievable as assistance from one, and now Cadoc could honestly say that he had seen both. He felt guilty. There was no reason to berate her for atrocities that she did not commit, especially considering his own tally of orcish victims.

"Rukhash..." Cadoc began. She turned towards him sharply and in a second she was at his side, the unyielding grip of her fist twisting his collar. Her yellow eyes were red-tinged, puffy, but all the malice he expected from an orc was in them. She leaned towards him, a feral rumble in the back of her throat. He hadn't anticipated such a swift, vicious turn and Cadoc half expected her to tear out his larynx.

"Don't," she growled at him, her voice low and dangerous. "There ain't nothing you can say to make any of it any different." Rukhash sniffled miserably, and sat back, releasing her hold and pushing him back a little. Despite himself, Cadoc breathed a sigh of relief.

There was a long, quiet moment in which Rukhash retreated from him to wipe her eyes, her expression troubled. Her sorrow was a tangible thing, almost as alive as the orc in front of him. Cadoc was surprised he had not noticed it before. She had been so cheerful since he woke up, aside from a few, brief flashes of temper, Cadoc would have considered her a generally bright natured individual, but all that cheer hid a great deal of pain.

Cadoc knew that kind of pain. He had lost a family as well, even if it was of his own doing. Without the distraction of his sister and her children, Cadoc wasn't sure how he would have survived the grief.

"In the end it all happened like He said it would," Rukhash said at length, defeated, and Cadoc could hear the long, lonely years in her voice.

"Who said?" he asked in a quiet voice, afraid to rile her up again.

"The Eye," Rukhash growled, remembering the empty promises made to her and the others while they toiled under Lugbúrz, and worse, the very real threats. "He said that if we'd failed 'im, the race of Men would run us down 'til there weren't any more of us. It was  _us_  who'd failed. If my folk had won, we'd have done the same to yers as you'd done to us, so fair is fair. I were angry for a long while afterwards, but there ain't really any point in it anymore."

"As for you," she said, giving Cadoc a poignant look, "you just happened to get yourself all banged up at the right time. I weren't looking forward to another winter by myself up here, and I figured if I could make a friend of a ranger, then maybe there was hope. Not sure what kind. A hope fer peace, I guess."

Cadoc releasedt a long breath through his nose, and Rukhash shifted under his intense scrutiny. There was so much that separated their people, too much for any one of them to make up for. But there was a horrible familiarity to the shape of Rukhash's sorrow. An orc she might be, but she was also a mother; a sister; a  _widow_.

There were many young knights that yearned to hone their swords and their reputations on orcish necks, and Cadoc had not blamed them. Now, he began to reconsider. There had not been an attack in Gondor – at least none of significance that Cadoc would hear of it – in nearly five years. A wholesale slaughter of orcs would be no different from the Dark Lord's campaign against the free peoples. Besides, were the orcs not free people now that the yoke of their master was cast off? And how different could they be from men? If an orc mourned its kin in the same way men did, could they really be the violent, malevolent monsters long believed?

Cadoc wasn't sure, but the fact that he was left with so many questions rattled beliefs that he had held true for the entirety of his life.

"I suppose it is hard for some to put down their swords once the fighting is done," Cadoc said, finally. Rukhash's triangular ear flicked towards him, and he knew that she was listening.

"I am probably as guilty as any orc that attacked an unsuspecting village," he admitted, both to her and to himself, and Cadoc was surprised by the weight that statement put on his shoulders. Frowning, the ranger cast his eyes downward to avoid looking at her, unable to meet her eyes. "I find it troubling that you are able to look beyond the harsh history between our people, and save the life of a possible enemy. You show enviable wisdom and kindness."

"It don't take no of wisdom to help someone," Rukhash said quietly, an inscrutable expression on her face. "Just takes a little patience."

Cadoc stared at the she orc for a long time. He owed her more than to sit here and eat her food all winter. She had saved his  _life_. What would she do when he left in spring? Go back to a life of solitary misery? Cadoc found that idea suddenly horrifying. She deserved to be with her own kind again. Coming to a decision, Cadoc took hold of Rukhash's hand. She was startled, but didn't pull away.

"I feel the need to apologize," Cadoc said. Rukhash was quiet, but made no move to wrench herself free. "Not for the war, because that was beyond both of us, and not for what happened after, because that, too, was larger than two people."

"So you're not apologizing at all, then?" Rukhash scowled.

"I am _sorry_ ," Cadoc continued, "for thinking less of you, and of your people. If the race of orc could produce a woman of such virtue, than they could not have been the monsters I have always thought them to be."

Rukhash raised a brow at him. " _Virtue,_ " she echoed, a little dumbfounded.

"You have afforded me nothing but patient consideration, and I have not seen fit to look beyond your race. The losses you have suffered grieves me terribly, but I can do nothing to repair that damage." Rukhash nodded silently. Cadoc smiled and released her hand. "I would make a pact with you," Cadoc added.

Rukhash's eyes became round at that. "A... what?"

"A pact," Cadoc repeated, nodding determinedly. "You said your father was from Nûrn."

"Aye..." Rukhash replied, suddenly suspicious.

"Then when my leg is healed, and the snows of winter are passed, I will help you travel to Nûrn. I can only assume you have not gone already because of the threat of orc hunters between here and Mordor."

Rukhash was a little surprised that Cadoc was so intuitive. She had tried on more than one occasion to make the trip back to Mordor, but had always run into trouble in one form or another, and ended up turning back towards the safety of her hidden mountain cave. "Why would you do that?" she asked, baffled.

"Because I owe you that much for saving my life," Cadoc replied. "And it is the right thing to do."

Rukhash's lips drew into a thin line. "I ain't even sure my dad is still alive," she said. "I don't even know what tribe he's from, just that it's by the sea."

"Do you know his name?"

"Gijakzi," she replied, "but that's a fairly common name for an orc."

"But you know he was a smith," Cadoc said, and Rukhash nodded, "and you know he was sent to Isengard. Did he mention nothing of his kin in Mordor?"

Rukhash thought hard on that. It had been so long since she last spoke with her dad, but she did recall a few offhanded comments he had made. "He mentioned I had a sister," she said. "He always said I looked like 'er. Hernag –  _nar_  – Hinagir, I think her name was."

"That is enough to find his tribe, don't you think?" Cadoc was a little surprised by the way Rukhash's face lit up. She looked...hopeful, and every bit as young as her twenty-three years.

"You'd really do that?" she asked him, her tone awestruck. "You'd really see I had safe passage?"

Cadoc nodded firmly. "I cannot give you leave to pass through Gondor, I don't have that kind of authority, but I  _will_  lend my sword to your aid. It is, after all, the duty of a ranger to see a maid safely to her home."

"Ain't no  _maid,_ " Rukhash said, fixing him with a level stare.

"Young woman, then," Cadoc amended.

Rukhash rolled her large, yellow eyes dramatically. "You and yer pretty words," she snorted. Raising from her kneeling position at his side, she pinched the hunks of drying venison between her claws, checking their progress. Licking the red juice from her fingers, she adjusted their distance from the flame. "These almost burned while we were yackin'," she grumbled, but her tone seemed unworried and her mood was light.

As she milled about the fire, poking at various skewers, she kept glancing up at him and worrying her lip between her fangs. Bemused, Cadoc felt the need to mention it. "What?" he said. The smell of cooking meat was filling the cave now, and his stomach rumbled loudly.

"Hungry?" the she-orc asked as she plucked a few of the smaller pieces off of their sticks and arranged them on a plate.

"I am," Cadoc replied, "but don't change the subject. Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

Rukhash blinked innocently at him. "Like  _what_?"

"I'm not sure," Cadoc admitted. "Like you intend to say something, but keep thinking better of it."

" _Gar_ ," she grumbled as she laid the plate near him, "guess I'm just happy."

"We're not on the way to Mordor yet," Cadoc replied soberly. "There's still the issue of my injury, and the long winter ahead, and it will be weeks of travel after we  _do_ leave. Maybe more, if we are to avoid the larger towns and cities."

Rukhash narrowed her eyes at him. "You really know how to suck all the fun outta a moment, don't you?" she said crossly.

"I have been accused of worse crimes," Cadoc replied as he took a messy bite out of his dinner. Cadoc suddenly eyed the dish with interest. It had been bothering him for a while, how she had acquired the decorated ceramics she kept serving their food in. They certainly didn't seem orcish make, at least, not compared to the plain clay or wood containers and bowls she used for her medicines. And where  _did_  one find giant, cast iron pots in the middle of the White Mountains?

"Where did you get these dishes?" he asked suspiciously. "And the pots, also?"

She fixed him with a startled look and frowned. "Right where you think." Rukash said after a pause while she filled her own, mismatched bowl. "I stole 'em." Her voice was surprisingly light as she said this, as though she preferred to make jest of her thievery.

"From where?" Cadoc asked, concerned.

"Here 'n there," she replied cryptically. "Didn't  _hurt_  no one. Just snuck around old farmsteads till I found a barn or a back door what was open." Rukhash took a large bite out of her own dinner. "Yud be suprised hoo'll leaf deir dooths open," she sputtered around her mouthful, little bits of charred flesh flicking out from between her sharp teeth.

"And no one was hurt?" Cadoc did not sound convinced.

"Think I'm lyin', do ya?" she said after swallowing. Her tone conveyed her offense. "A girl by herself ain't looking fer no trouble. I were in and out afore anyone knew I were there. Most of the spots I'd found were abandoned anyhow."

"I do not think you are lying," Cadoc assured her, and truly he didn't. "I suppose I am just impressed by your stealth. I have never thought of orcs as...stealthy."

Rukhash looked insulted. "We're plenty  _stealthy_  when we want.  _Sha_! How you gonna sneak up on nobody bein'  _not_  stealthy?"

"Fair enough," Cadoc granted.

"What you think I  _raped_  and  _murdered_  for 'em?" Rukhash said accusingly, a rumbling growl forming in her throat. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"I never said that," Cadoc replied raising his hands in a disarming gesture, annoyed with himself that he said anything at all. He had no intention of insulting her again. In truth, it was an unfair question to ask. Her pots and pans and dishes were obviously made by men. They bore patterns and designs similar to those found in Southern Rohan, but they were very old and worn, even though she seemed to keep them in the cleanest condition she could. Cadoc just wanted to be sure, he supposed. "I was just curious," he explained.

Rukhash's bottom lip firmed. Her crinkled nose and sharp eyes told him that she was angered by his inquiry, and he couldn't blame her. Cadoc would be insulted as well if someone had insinuated he had done murder over saucers. "I'm sorry," he said for the second time that evening. "I suppose I still have many prejudices to overcome this winter."

Rukhash's anger seemed to dissipate easily. She couldn't really stay mad at this man, not when he had made such a significant promise to her. She shrugged and smiled ruefully. "Still stole 'em, I guess," she said with a cheeky smirk and continued her supper.

Cadoc laughed out loud at that. He supposed the price of peace,  _real_  peace – the kind that all the people of Middle Earth could enjoy – was a little understanding, or at least, tolerance. Cadoc couldn't exactly condone what she had done, but he understood Rukhash's motives. After all, she could not simply stroll into a town in western Gondor and trade furs and orc medicines for what she needed.

The rest of their meal was shared in relative silence. Rukhash checked the drying meat and rendering fat again, and the busied herself with the task of tidying her little cave. Cadoc had quickly fallen asleep, his light snores punctuated by the pop and crackle of the fire. She banked the hearth for the night and tucked herself into bed.

Wrapped up in her fur blanket, she found herself staring at Cadoc while he slept across the way. She hoped he spoke true when he promised to see her safely to Mordor. Her earlier attempts to travel there had always brought more danger than she cared to face. Rukhash was not a warrior. She was a healer, and more recently, a hunter. She had faced the random orc slayer and ranger in her years alone, but she had no desire to face a small army, like the one that decimated her second clan.

They had worked so hard to remain hidden in the northern mountains, and after six years they all assumed that the race of men would forget about them, and they would be safe.

Rukhash would never shake the guilt of her absence while orc hunters slew the children and other females in the den. She had been out gathering herbs and supplies for her clan sister's impending birth and to heal her own hurts after the tumultuous birth of her son, and had only returned when she smelled the thick stench of burning flesh on the crisp mountain breeze. Rukhash knew, even as she raced back to the caverns, that she was already too late, and was most likely rushing to meet her doom.

* * *

_The air was choked with smoke. The hearth fires had run amuck and now the pallets and tools inside their cave burned. Rukhash could scent charred flesh as well, but she refused to believe that the men had already reached the den, where the pregnant women and children usually remained._

_There were no sounds of battle. No clashing broadswords or guttural yells, and that alone should have made her turn around. Whatever happened here was over, and there would be nothing she could do about it. Still, Rukhash dared to hope as she descended into the shallow tunnel that let to their den. Her mate was large and strong. Certainly, he would have kept their young safe..._

_It was pitch dark inside the cave, the reek of death like a blanket over her. Rukhash stumbled on something large and fleshy. Despite her horror, she bent to touch the wet, soft mound in front of her. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Rukhash could make out the stocky build of Drautran. The larger female's swollen belly was slick and sticky with blood, and Rukhash could feel the deep gash across her side that spilled the female's insides onto the cave floor. She could make out the forms of the other orcesses laying in similar positions. Some had fallen with weapons in hand, others were further in the semicircle of bodies, obviously acting as a shield for the children that lay in their own, bloodied heap at the center._

_A keening sob escaped Rukhash's throat as she caught sight of her young daughter and newborn son. She clamored through the corpses to pull them both into her arms. Their throats were neatly cut, and their eyes were closed peacefully, a cruel guise that made them appear as if they were sleeping and might wake at any moment. Her beautiful Rangmau and sturdy Raugvarg, dead as surely as the twelve other whelps born to the clan in the past six springs. Their father was most likely slain as well, along with the other males who would have fought the orc hunters before they could reach the cave. Anbagûrz would never have allowed this to happen to their children if he were alive._

_The muffled chatter reached her ears before she could make out what was being said, but she knew instinctively that whoever was approaching was no orc._

_"This way Dran," the singsong voice of a tark male called out. "There's still the heap of 'em in here."_

_"Oi," another, gruffer tark answered, "not so fast lad! We should wait for the others before going in."_

_Rukhash sneered into the darkness. Without a second thought, she pried a long, serrated blade from the death grip of another female. Fittingly enough, it was Shapag, her face frozen forever in a terrible roar. She was the largest she orc of their group, their den mother and the fiercest warrior. Rukhash closed the Black Uruk's glassy eyes, reverently asking her dead comrade to lend a lesser warrior a little of her skill._

_Bloody vengeance would be done, even if she only managed to kill one of the men that approached._

_Rukhash crept through the narrow tunnel just as a younger man blotted out the light from the entrance. Dressed in blood splattered, leather armor, his posture was relaxed and his sword remained buckled at his hip. His head was turned to the side as he regarded his comrade._

_"Don't be so skittish, old man," he laughed, raising his gloved hand to comb through a mass of bedraggled dark hair. "The lot of them are dead."_

_"You don't know that for certain," warned a voice to the young man's right. "We always may have missed one. Keep your eyes sharp." Rukhash gauged the second man as being positioned fairly close. She ducked into the shadows, sure that she could fell the first and reach the second before he could raise his sword._

_Rukhash tensed, her whole body coiled like a viper, and waited._

_The young man braced himself against the stone wall as he stepped into the tunnel. He turned to watch his step on the treacherous rocks of the cavern floor, and finally caught Rukhash's steely, golden gaze where she crouched along the notched wall._

_His mouth opened in a shout, but only succeeded in producing a gurgling cough. Rukhash had already sprung forward, the black blade poised in front of her as she ran the young orc hunter through the middle and drew the blade out just as quickly, it's jagged teeth sawing through his innards easily. He fell forward gracelessly, still alive. Rukhash did not waste time on finishing him quickly. He would be dead soon enough._

_In the span of a heartbeat, she had leapt out of the crevice to face the second man she knew was there. This man was older, and obviously more experienced. His blade was already drawn, flashing menacingly in the noonday sun. Driven by a rage even greater than what she had known in Mordor, Rukhash swung wildly at him, hoping her inherent strength would throw off his balance._

_It didn't._

_The older man parried her attack easily and brought his sword around to slice her across the chest, cutting deep. She yelped in surprised pain and quietly marveled at his speed, but did not cease her assault. Her second swing met with less success, and the orc hunter disarmed her completely, knocking her to the ground and flinging her weapon into the dense undergrowth. The hunter raised the sword hilt above his head, prepared to stab down into her, but Rukhash refused to yield quietly. Lashing at him with her claws, she managed to gouge above the knee, unbalancing him. Rukhash righted herself as the man tripped backwards and launched at him. He fell on his back as she pounced on top, and her world became a feral fury of gnashing teeth and rending claws._

_Dimly, she could hear him screaming in agony above her own, cacophonous roar, and for that brief moment she felt pure satisfaction in her triumph._

_Finally the orc hunter was dead, and she stood above him gasping for air, the metallic taste of his blood filling her mouth and overwhelming her sense of smell. In the distance she could hear other men shouting, haloo-ing and calling for their now-dead fellows. They were coming closer, and the sound of innumerable boots running through the undergrowth drowned out the heady rush of her reprisal._

_She should have stayed. She should have stood her ground and fought until she could fight no more, but Rukhash was no warrior._

_Plucking Shapag's orcish blade from the bushes, Rukhash fled into the wilderness_.

* * *

_**Translations** _

_**Lugbúrz** _ _: The orcish word for Barad-dûr_

_**Nar** _ _: No, a negative response_

* * *

**Last Edited: June 2014**


	5. Useful Studies

**Splint  
Chapter 5: Useful Studies**

* * *

Making a small, strangled noise in the back of her throat, Rukhash adjusted her grip.

"You have developed some terrible habits," Cadoc admonished. Leaning forward, he gingerly repositioned her hands.

"Ain't nothing wrong with my habits," she barked indignantly. "I seen plenty of lads do this one-handed."

"Then they were prone to poor habits as well," Cadoc replied calmly. "With two hands, you are less likely to lose your grip."

Huffing through her nose, Rukhash tried to relax her posture, as Cadoc had instructed. She didn't know this sort of thing entailed so much nuance.

"And don't hold it so tightly," Cadoc added.

Rukhash felt her eye twitch. "Too loose, too tight!  _Gar,_  I wish you'd make up your mind."

Unmoved by her outburst, Cadoc eyed her cooly. "Do you want me to teach you this, or not?" he queried. She pouted, but the orcess remained silent and attentive. She loosed he grip slightly.

"That's good," Cadoc praised, nodding curtly, "now stand and I will instruct you in your stance."

She felt remarkably uncomfortable, standing before Cadoc while he examined her so critically. Making sure her back was straight and her feet were shoulder distance apart, Rukhash stood a few paces away from him and held her sword at the ready. The Ranger was still reclined on his pallet, turned partially to the side so he could look at her, his hand resting comfortably on his uninjured knee. His eyes roamed up and down her figure, looking for any weakness in her bearing. Cadoc's eyes met hers and he nodded, a small smile on his lips.

"That," he said definitively, "is perfect posture." Rukhash inwardly beamed, but she kept her expression stony.

"How do you feel?" Cadoc asked her.

Rukhash's upper lip turned up slightly before she affected a neutral expression. " _Skai!_ " she groused. "It's like I got a fuckin' board shoved up my arse. I don't see how this'll help me fight any better."

"You asked me to teach you swordsmanship," Cadoc told her, his tone casual. "One of the first lessons in handling a sword is standing properly, squaring your shoulders and insuring you have a good grip and sure footing."

" _Hn_ ," the she-orc grunted. "Now what?"

"Stay like that," was the Ranger's breezy reply.

"What?" Rukhash squawked, but didn't budge from her stance, after all she had worked so hard to get it right. "The fuck, you say! Why for?"

"I have all winter to teach you this," Cadoc told her, suddenly stern. "That is plenty of time for you to learn the  _proper_  way. Discipline is an important part of fighting. The way you stand, every stroke of the sword, these should all be ingrained. It should become second nature, so that if you find yourself in an unorthodox situation you will not have to concentrate on  _how_ you are standing or  _how_  you are holding the sword. You will do it automatically."

Rukhash wrinkled her nose. "S'pose that makes sense. How long should I stand here?"

Cadoc gauged the lightening sky outside with a wry smile. "I don't want to be too tough on your first day. The sun will hit the threshold soon. Hold it until then."

Rukhash's eyes flicked to the entrance, and then glared back at Cadoc. "That's over an hour away!"

"Like I said," Cadoc kept his tone light, "nothing too tough." Rukhash's tawny stare bored into him for a little longer, but she straightened her shoulders and held her place.

"You don't  _have_ to do this if you don't want to," Cadoc sighed.

"I  _want_  to," was her determined reply. "What good's a sword if I'm wavin' it around like some fancy pecker."

Pursing his lips, Cadoc regarded her thoughtfully. "It's obviously an orcish blade. Didn't the orc that gave it to you think to teach you?"

A sad look danced across her features, though she remained unmoving. "Can't teach no one nothin' if yer dead," Rukhash replied quietly.

Cadoc exhaled slowly and decided not to pursue the topic. Arranged neatly next to him were his saddlebags and weapons, recently returned by his orc hostess. His whetstone was still near his blade where he left it, after instructing Rukhash how to properly hone her own sword. In the forges, she had used a large pedal wheel to prepare the swords and spears and axes, and was unfamiliar with the upkeep that came afterwards. For all her minute instruction as a child, Cadoc found many areas where her education in weaponry was lacking.

"How on earth do you keep your knife sharp?" he had asked her, astounded by her lack of knowledge.

The orcess had shrugged as she examined the curved blade she usually kept tucked in her boot. "Dad made it," she had said and grinned. "Dad's blades never go dull."

Cadoc decided then and there he would teach her what he knew. Orcs had never been impressive adversaries when it came to handling swords, in Cadoc's opinion. Orcish blades were sturdy enough, if not a little plain, but the orcs that wielded them often relied on the ferocity of brute force, and lacked knowledge of the more subtle intricacies of fencing. This made them no less dangerous, but a skilled swordsman would often have the advantage over an armed orc, even a very large one. When Rukhash asked him to teach her how to use a sword, he debated the pros and cons of such instruction. A well trained orcish opponent would be a formidable enemy. Physically, they were, pound for pound, much stronger and more dexterous than a man.

However, Cadoc found that he trusted Rukhash with such knowledge. If anything, the inherent lessons of swordsmanship might be a boon to her culture if she cared to share them with others of her race. Cadoc intended to teach his student more than just practiced moves and fighting stances, he also wanted to impart some of the lessons in honor and discipline he had learned as a lad. Rukhash had already proven that she was in possession of some moral compass, and her daily routine employed its own manner of discipline. Cadoc imagined she would take to such education effortlessly.

Reaching for his sword and stone, Cadoc went about the methodical task of working out the scrapes and notches from his blade. Rukhash was still, concentrating on her stance. For a long stretch of time they remained silent, the soft  _schwing_  of stone against steel ringing gently through the cavern. When Cadoc looked up the sun was nearly to the entrance, and Rukhash hadn't moved a muscle.

"I have to say, I am quite impressed," he admitted. "I had not nearly so much patience during  _my_  first lesson."

The she-orc chuffed. "Feckin' ear itches," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Cadoc watched her ear writhe against an unseen torment as she remained otherwise motionless. Oddly enough, it reminded him of his sister's cat. Often, while the small beast slept on the hearth rug, Cadoc would bend down in passing and run the tip of his finger along the ridge of its ear  _very_  lightly, barely touching the hairs. Its ear would twitch, trying to flick away the sensation. Then, the irritated feline would jerk awake, glare balefully at him and scurry out of his reach.

As Cadoc recalled, that cat despised him in a particular way.

Orc ears, it seemed, had the same range of rotation. Rukhash lifted the point of her ear up and jerked it quickly forward in an amusing, flapping motion. She repeated this several times, as if she hoped the rush of air would abate the irritating tingle. Cadoc bit his cheek to keep from laughing.

"You've been at that for a while, why not scratch it?" Cadoc reasoned.

The she-orc favored him with one of her dirtier looks. "I'm fucking  _Uruk-hai_ ," she growled defiantly. "I ain't gonna bend to an  _itch_." Her bright eyes flicked towards the entrance. "Sun's almost there, anyhow."

Cadoc smiled to himself.  _That stubbornness with only make her a more tenacious pupil_ , he reasoned, though he did think she was being a little silly.

The moment the morning light hit the threshold, Rukhash dropped her sword with a loud  _clang_  and bent double, rubbing the heel of her palm vigorously over the inside of her ear. She remained like that for a long minute, practically purring as she relieved her affliction. " _Sha_! That were pissing me off."

Cadoc chuckled. "I admire your fortitude," he said with a smile. "Would you like to continue the lesson?"

"In a bit," Rukhash replied, lacing her fingers and bending backwards to touch her heels. Cadoc winced at the loud popping of her spine, but had to admit some admiration for her show of dexterity. Straightening and rolling her shoulders, Rukhash bent down to retrieve her discarded weapon and sheath it at her hip.

"I'd like to take a look at that leg of yours," she said as she approached him. "Thinkin' I'll head out and get what I need t' make you a crutch."

Cadoc sat up, brightening. "Really?" He could not mask the excitement in his voice. He did not think he would be ready for a crutch so soon. Just the  _thought_  of standing was heartening.

The she-orc smiled a strange, apprehensive smile as she undid the fastenings holding the splint together. She loosed the bindings and folded them back, revealing the Ranger's thin leg and the long, winding scar that spread from the bottom of his knee to nearly his ankle. Running the pads of her fingers along the soft, newly healed flesh, she looked at him pointedly.

"Can you feel that?" she asked with all seriousness. Cadoc concentrated on the her light touch and nodded.

"How's this then?" She ran her claws lightly along the side of his calf, causing a pleasant, almost ticklish sensation. Cadoc felt heat rise to his face.

"Yes," he said gruffly. "I can feel that too."

Rukhash looked pleased. She withdrew her hands and folded them in her lap. "That's fine," she said with a sigh of relief. "You were banged up good. I were worried you might've lost some feeling, what with how bad this leg was mangled."

"You didn't think to mention that before now?" Cadoc said archly, annoyed that she would keep such important information from him.

Rukhash rolled her eyes and waved her hand at him in a dismissive gesture. "Didn't want ta worry you. Now, wiggle yer toes."

Cadoc huffed through his nose, still annoyed, but did as she asked without complaint. His digits were stiff, but he managed to move them well enough, if not awkwardly. He grunted in pain as a sharp, cramped feeling shot up the back of his thigh.

Rukhash noticed him wince and frowned. "That hurt?" Rukhash's tone did not sound distressed, but her face betrayed her concern.

"A little," Cadoc admitted. "I felt a bit of cramping in my thigh."

The she orc worried her lip between her lower fangs. A habit, Cadoc noticed, she exhibited when she was deliberating something.

"Might just be stiff," she said finally. Fixing him with a pointed look she said, "I'm wanna check somethin'. Don't get weird about it."

Cadoc raised a brow at that. "All right..." he said slowly.

Nodding, Rukhash gestured towards his leg. "Lift yer knee, I'm gonna feel around the back a yer thigh."

"Why?" Cadoc frowned. That was much more familiar touching than he was comfortable with. Never mind that she was an orc; he barely knew her.

"I wanna make sure you don't got no clots," she replied. "Been mixin' stuff inta yer medicine ta thin yer blood, but you ain't moved that leg in a while. That shit can kill ya, so let me check."

Her explanation made sense, so Cadoc reluctantly lifted his knee as far as he was able. The same, sharp sensation ran up the back of his leg and he grimaced. Rukhash didn't pay him any mind as she reached around his leg and began probing the muscle there, slowly working her way up his leg. She didn't look at him as she did this, her lips pursed while her expression remained serious and half lidded, as though she was relying on her hands to see for her.

Cadoc was not as distressed by this examination as he thought he would be. Frankly, he imagined it would amount to the equivalent of her copping a feel, but the orcess's manner was perfunctory and professional. Even when her hands roamed upwards, Cadoc's anxiousness had more to do with what she might find beneath his skin than where her hands were located.

"It feels all right," she said as she withdrew her touch, lowering his knee and covering his legs back up with the blanket. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he expected her to be mocking about the whole thing. Instead of teasing him about the hot blush he could feel on his face, she turned and started dressing for a trek outdoors.

"Still gonna make a crutch for you." Rukhash said, and pointed a stern claw at him, her tone grave. "Don't you go and do anything stupid fer it. You need the exercise, but break that leg again and I'm not fucking fixin' it."

Her hard eyes and drawn mouth reminded Cadoc of Edda as she scolded her son. Of course, his sister was not nearly as prone to using expletives. He felt bad for feeling leery over her examining him. She might tease him every now and again, but she also displayed great seriousness when it came to looking after his injuries. Besides, she had seen far more of him when he lay unconscious.

"I understand," Cadoc replied readily, intent on being a good patient. "I promise not to overdo it."

Rukhash nodded sharply, looking pleased. "That's fine, then."

While the orcess packed her bow and arrows and bundled up for her trek into the cold, late October morning, Cadoc ran his fingers through his beard thoughtfully. He didn't normally shave when he was on the road, but it became a necessity from time to time, and his whiskers were becoming so long that it was making his chin itch. He imagined that he must look like a Wild Man by now, and was struck with the desire to do some grooming.

"Do you mind leaving me with a little water before you go?" he asked his orc hostess as she pulled on her dark boots.

Rukhash tilted her head in a quizzical manner. "Why, you thirsty?"

"I thought I would do a little grooming while you were gone," Cadoc said as he rifled through his pack, pulling out the folded straight razor and the dwindling bar of soap he packed months prior. "I'm beginning to get a little overgrown."

Grinning, Rukhash ambled over with a shallow bucket of water. "You could use a wash while your at it. I know you don't like doin' that while I'm around."

"Trying to tell me something?" Cadoc said with a raised brow.

The orcess merely shrugged and headed up the steep slope to the cave entrance. "Won't be long," she told him. "I can smell a storm coming."

"A storm?" Cadoc said, alarmed. "Will it be snow?"

Rukhash snuffed haughtily. "My nose ain't fucking magic. Can smell the air getting wetter is all." Rubbing her neck she added, "Gonna be a big one, I think. All my hairs is pricklin'."

"Be safe," Cadoc called to her. The orcess didn't answer him as she turned and vanished into the stark morning light. It was a habit that Cadoc had to acclimate himself to over the course of his stay. Rukhash neither greeted him when she entered, nor bade him farewell when she left. After the first week of this, Cadoc decided not to allow it to offend him. Considering the odd looks she'd given him at his greetings to her, especially in those first, awkward days, he imagined it must be a common habit among her folk to come and go with little or no fanfare.

* * *

Rukhash climbed halfway down the mountain before she found a group of saplings suitable to make a crutch from. Testing their strength against her own, Rukhash found the best of the group and used her sword to saw it from the batch growing out of a fallen oak. Normally, she would avoid cutting green wood, as it gave away her presence to sharp eyed travelers, but she doubted anyone would happen along this one, small stump so late in the season.

Most orcs Rukhash knew during the war would go out of their way to fell growing things. While in Lugbúrz, she often overheard the soldiers grouse about flowers' stench or the unsightliness of trees when they were sent out into the greener lands to sow mischief. Many of those lads had only known the black, scorched earth of Mordor, born in the pits and raised in the noisome barracks as they were. Rukhash had no particular issue with green things when she'd arrived in Mordor, though her feelings towards trees were not particularly gentle.

However, some orcs, like Rukhash's old mistress in the breeding pits, were better versed in plants and their uses. Grazad taught Rukhash many things while she served her. The old female hailed from Duath, a heavily forested area in Nûrn that remained mostly untouched, even after the Eye had started harvesting the resources Mordor had to offer. Despite being a difficult mistress, Rukhash owed her healing knowledge to the old orcess, who's abilities extended beyond coarse stitching, black salves and orc draught.

Rukhash often wished she could thank that old female, or at least pay her back for a lashing or two. Grazad was not the most patient, or the most kindly, of tutors, but she had definitely been thorough, and Rukhash had not the good sense to appreciate it at the time.

_"Listen girl," the old orcess grunted, grabbing Rukhash's jaw and pointing it towards the table of meaningless vegetation. "You pay attention. I'm too old to be flitting around gatherin' up this stuff, so you're gonna be my little helper, you hear."_

_An adolescent Rukhash sneered at the old hag, but remained silent. She was still sore from the last lashing brought on by her sharp tongue._

_"There's a girl," Grazad purred, patting her cheek in mock affection. Rukhash bristled at the dry, cold texture of the orcess's palm. "Now, you see this?" The old female waved a nest of tangled, strong smelling roots in Rukhash's face. "My folk call this Shautraugflok. You stupid lot prob'ly don' even have a name for it."_

_Grazad grabbed a fist full of Rukhash's thick, dark hair and gave it a sharp tug. "Say it then," she ordered sharply._

_"Shautraugflok," Rukhash parroted._

_"This is useful stuff, it is," she informed the young Rukhash. "Know what it does?"_

_"Shuts up old hags?" Rukhash replied with a mirthless smile. Grazad cuffed her hard across the brow._

_"Don't be a little cunt," the orcess growled. "It's for girls what gave birth already. Takes the pain out and helps the bleedin' stop. Good stuff, this. You have em drink it steeped or put in a poultice. Garn, you remember how to make them, yea?"_

_Rukhash rubbed her smarted brow and nodded, remembering that lesson all too well. Grazad had her mash a mess of different, foul smelling pastes until her wrists were sore._

_"Good," the older orcess chirped. "This," the roots were replaced with an overly fragrant gold flower, and Rukhash nearly gagged, "is Augagul. Don't you make that face! This is for the new whelps. You boil a little a this in their bathing water. Helps their skin."_

_"What'r you teachin' me? Stinkin' elf magic?" Rukhash cried, horrified, and started backing out of the old female's little workroom. Grazad would have none of it, and grabbed the girl's arm, nearly wrenching it out of the socket as she dragged the young orcess to the side of the low table._

_"You listen good, you ign'rent little shit," Grazad hissed, her brown marbled teeth inches from Rukhash's face. Grazad grabbed the hair at the nape of Rukhash's neck in her bony fist and twisted, turning the young girl's head up and exposing her throat. Rukhash struggled against the her, but old orcess's grip was like unyielding steel. "This'll save a girl's life, you understand? You think this is elf shit,_ _**sha** _ _!" Grazad leaned in closer. Her red eyes bored into Rukhash like molten fire._

_"Do I look like a fucking elf to you?" the old orcess rumbled low and dangerous in her throat._

_"Nar!" Rukhash yelped._

_Grazad gave the girl a hard shake, twisting Rukhash's hair a little more, and tearing some chunks from he roots. Rukhash felt a warm wetness on her scalp. "Gonna listen now?" The orcess asked slowly._

_"AKH!" Rukhash yelped desperately, her voice cracking._

_"Good," Grazad sneered, releasing her hold and shoving Rukhash towards the table. The young she orc toppled some bowls and loose bundles of herbs to the floor in the process. Rukhash was shaking, the heavy scent of her own blood making her anxious._

_"Now pick up that shit you knocked over," Grazad sneered and tossed the torn locks of hair at Rukhash's face. She bent down, piling Grazad's strange herbs and concoctions into her arms._

__

Grazad's tutelage had been cruel, but Rukhash could not argue against it's effectiveness. It instilled in her a quiet respect for plants that she was forced to collect and prepare to aid the females in the pits. On many occasions, Rukhash saw Grazad's plants do their work, and save a girl's life. More than just midwifery medicine, Grazad was called to tend to the more serious battle wounds. Soldiers that could not be treated in the field, and managed to survive the trip back to the barracks often sought her aid. Grazad's skill, and coarse bedside manner, were well known, and not even the most hardened Uruk warrior dared questioned her remedies.

A cold drop of rain hit Rukhash's nose, shaking her from her reverie. Blinking rapidly in surprise and looking skyward, the orcess realized dark clouds had begun to form while she daydreamed. Annoyed with her inattention, she hurried to finish stripping the sapling of loose branches.

* * *

The wind increased to an alarming force, and a steady drizzle poured down by the time she returned to her cave. Rukhash crossed the threshold just in time for it to begin raining in earnest.

"I'm glad you made it!" Cadoc said as she entered. "I thought you would get caught in the storm."

Rukhash noted the relief in his voice with amusement as she shook her cloak free of extra moisture and laid it out by the fire to dry. Just three weeks past he was ready to stab her with a pen knife.

"Lost track of time, I guess," she explained. "Got a good length of wood for you, tho-" Rukhash's voice caught in her throat as she took in Cadoc's changed appearance. His face was completely naked, the dark, greying hair on his face gone entirely. The shallow bucket of water she'd left him with was filled with what was once Cadoc's beard.

Cadoc looked up to find Rukhash gawking at him, her normally almond-shaped eyes comically round. "What?" he asked, confused by her gaping.

"You cut it all off!" she exclaimed.

Cadoc scratched his bare jaw sheepishly. Much of his beard had matted below his chin, and he never cared for it to grow a great length to begin with. Besides, he couldn't remember the last time he had seen his face. "You'd be surprised how fast it grows," he said. "I'll have stubble by the morning."

Rukhash approached him and kneeled so their eyes were level. She hovered around his face, fascinated. "You look better," she said, reaching out despite herself to rub a thumb over his naked chin. Cadoc blinked owlishly.

"I mean it," she emphasized, turning his head to appreciate his profile. His features were still oddly proportioned, and his nose was no less beaky, but the absence of hair on his face made him seem much less alien looking. Rukhash wondered why he hadn't shaved sooner. He had a strong jaw under all of that hair, and looked significantly more masculine with it showing.

" _Uh_ ," he stammered, suddenly self conscious under Rukhash's intense scrutiny, "thank you."

He leaned out of her grasp, a little uncomfortable with her touching him so familiarly. It may have been much more innocent in appearance, but it did not seem nearly as impersonal as her examination of him earlier. As if remembering herself, Rukhash withdrew her hand and backed away, turning towards the sapling she had gathered, her eyes downcast.

" _Gar,_ " she said gruffly, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "don't get a big head over it. You're still the hairiest thing I've ever seen." Cadoc barked out a stunted laugh. "Now," she said as she dropped the length of wood beside his pallet, "let's measure you a crutch."

Rukhash spent the rest of the afternoon cutting and sawing the sapling she'd collected. Cadoc frowned as she used her sword to trim down the crutch to suit his height. A part of him wanted to correct her for using her weapon in such a way – it was remarkably disrespectful to her blade – but Cadoc held his tongue. He was not in the mood to start an argument with her. Besides, it was her sword to use as she liked.

When she finished fashioning his crutch, Rukhash helped Cadoc to his feet so he could test it out. It was slow going, those first tentative steps, and Rukhash had to support his other side. Cadoc looked down on her dark crown after she helped him cross the span of the cave with a deep sense of gratitude. As Rukhash helped him back to his pallet, Cadoc realized she was not quite the stranger she was before. Her unusual features and the subtle differences in her expressions were becoming more and more familiar to him.

After he was settled back on his bedding, Rukhash went about preparing them dinner. Cadoc reclined, feeling remarkably tired after his small excursion across the cave. The orcess worked quietly, occasionally looking up towards him with a small, friendly smile that Cadoc found himself returning. He would be dead now if not for this orc woman. She owed him nothing, she had been robbed of her own family by his people, and yet, she had gone above and beyond what he would expect from a stranger to accommodate him, never mind the treatment he would have expected from an enemy. A familiar, anxious guilt crept up in him. Rukhash was a decent person, not a mindless animal bent on bloodlust. Cadoc wondered, if given the opportunity and the chance, if any of the numerous orcs he slew over the years might have been just as decent.

Maybe worse than the fact that Rukhash had become more familiar to him was the fact that Cadoc found that he was beginning to like her, as a person. There was a discipline in her day to day routine that Cadoc respected, her extensive knowledge of healing was something he wondered over, and she was remarkably intuitive; careful to make sure he was comfortable around her. Looking back on the past weeks, he could easily see where she had restrained herself from snapping at him or losing her temper, especially considering how quick he was to think the worst of her.

He enjoyed her easy humor, and Rukhash seemed to find humor in most things. She definitely enjoyed teasing him, but her verbal jabs were light hearted and amusing, focused around his need for privacy; his discomfort with her orcish food and medicine; or his 'odd looking face'. Cadoc was not so prideful that he could not laugh at himself. He imagined he was something of a novelty to her.

She cussed like a hardened soldier, but even that was not so off putting. If anything, her swearing had become an endearing quality, like her gruff gentleness or her motherly fussing or her blunt speech. Not that the orcess was not without her faults, but those faults: her stubbornness or her flair of temper when she was frustrated, were not so off putting now that he was accustomed to her disposition.

They shared a quiet dinner and some mindless conversation about the fierce weather outside. Cadoc frowned thoughtfully as he watched Rukhash clear the dishes and tidy up after supper. She was wearing a long, drab colored tunic, well worn and patched over several dozen times. His attention was drawn to her strange, rat like feet, a common feature of orcs. Her clawed toes clicked idly on the stone floor as she scrubbed the large pot she used to cook their supper in. When Cadoc had first met Rukhash – it seemed like a lifetime ago that he woke in her cave – she had looked no less monstrous than any other orc he had ever met, but Rukhash was nothing Cadoc expected an orc to be. The more time he spent with her, the more Cadoc looked upon her as a friend.

* * *

**Last Edited: June 2014**


	6. Vices

**Splint**

**Chapter Six: Vices**

* * *

Rukhash had fashioned him a crude but effective instrument. Determined to regain his former stamina, Cadoc began practicing with his new crutch in earnest. It was a frustrating exercise, like learning to walk all over again - only now he possessed a third leg - but the Ranger refused to be deterred. After a long period of immobility, even the simple act of standing was a relief. Shuffling along with the crutch was like being freed from a long imprisonment.

The orcess hovered over him at first; following on his heels as he made circles around the cave and grumbling warnings against over exertion. It was a few days before she finally relaxed her watchful scrutiny, convinced that her overzealous patient would not cause himself further injury.

Per his promise, Cadoc would spend the mornings instructing Rukhash in swordsmanship; hobbling around her in wide circles while she parried and struck against an invisible opponent. She grumbled over the repetitive exercises he put her through, but Cadoc could tell her heart was set on pleasing him and let her bemoaning slide.

She was not terrible with a blade, though there were many inclinations she had developed over the years that she would have to break. He was constantly reminding her to use a second hand to guide her stroke. Still, Cadoc was impressed by the speed of her accomplishment. It seemed as though, once Rukhash put her mind to learn something, she endeavored to exceed at it.

Her healing skill was even more impressive than her quick study. Though dubious of her medicines at first, Cadoc soon realized that they were remarkably effective. Every morning she gave him a bitter, blackish potion to drink, and though it turned his stomach, he found it also increased his vigor. Considering the dire circumstances of his injury, he should not be able to stand at all. Yet, he could bear weight on his injured leg. Day by day, his leg felt stronger and his exercises grew more robust. Once he had asked her what it was she used to make her potions. Rukhash did not know the common name for most plants, and rattled off a list of unfamiliar, orcish terms instead. Cadoc laughed. He supposed the mysteries of her medicines would yet elude him.

Their days settled into a new, comfortable routine. Before the sun was a glimmer in the sky, Rukhash set off hunting; choosing to stalk her prey in the early morning hours, before the day became too bright. While she was gone, Cadoc would see to tidying up the cave. Sometimes the orcess would return empty handed, but more often that was not the case and there would be a fresh kill to butcher and preserve for the fast approaching winter. Cadoc began helping her with the preparation of the game now that he was afforded more mobility. It pleased him that he was finally able to pitch in, and Rukhash was more than happy to pass a few chores on to him.

She spent the better part of the evening in the general upkeep of their provisions; washing dishes or mending clothing or hovering over one of her strange brews. Cadoc took this time to practice walking long distances with his crutch, hoping to build up the wasted muscles in his legs. He paced around and around the interior of their cave while Rukhash complained he was making her dizzy.

"I think I'm getting much stronger," Cadoc said on one such night as he flopped next to her, his brow damp with exertion.

Rukhash sat cross legged, her cloak piled in her lap. The bright flash of her sewing needle dipped in and out of grey fur as she patched a particularly large tear. A small smile curved her lips, but the orcess did not bother to look up when she addressed him. "Aye," she said, amused, "yer a heaping  _ox_."

Used to her teasing, Cadoc elbowed her companionably. "Could you pass me my satchels?"

"What's yer leg broken?" the orcess clucked, but reached behind her and dragged Cadoc's saddlebags forward in a wide arc.

" _You_  are a particularly difficult woman at times," he said chuckling and he began to rummage through his packs. The orcess chuffed quietly, but he noted the corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile.

From his satchels, Cadoc produced a curved, heavy wooden pipe and small pouch of pipe weed, the remnants of his supply from the past season. It has been a long time since he had the chance to indulge, and he proceeded to pack the large bowl, deciding that a reward was in order after such a strenuous week. Rukhash watched this preparation with a bemused expression, her mending forgotten.

"What's that, then?" she asked, thrusting her chin in his direction as Cadoc tapped down the leaf with his thumb.

"This is one of the finer things in life," Cadoc replied pointedly, raising the pipe between them.

"Is 'at right..." she said slowly, sounding unconvinced.

"Indeed," Cadoc confirmed. "It is called 'pipe weed' or 'the halfling leaf,' and from what I understand it has many uses. I've heard many a healer employs it to curb pain."

Rukhash's expression turned suddenly serious. "Yer in pain?"

"Not at all," Cadoc assured her, "but I find it quite relaxing. That's what it is used for more often. I thought, since  _you_  are a healer, you might be interested in its more medicinal benefits."

"So," Rukhash said slowly, eyeing the strange wooden bowl skeptically, "do you eat it?"

Cadoc laughed. "No. You smoke it."

Scowling, Rukhash wrinkled her nose. "That don't sound too relaxin'," she rumbled. The orcess snuffed loudly a few times. "It smells weird."

"Oh?" Cadoc found himself often fascinated by the acuteness of Rukhash's sense of smell. "What does it smell like?" he asked, staring at the pipe in wonder.

"Hard to say," she told him, looking thoughtful. Cadoc watched her nostrils flare as she tested the air, her mouth slightly open while she took a few deep breaths. "It's sweet 'n kinda skunky at the same time," she said at last, rubbing her nose and snuffing.

Cadoc brought the pipe to his nose and sniffed experimentally. It smelled no different from usual, fragrant and earthy. He reached into his packs and procured a box of matches and was pleased to note that there was still a reasonable number left. He would not feel guilty for wasting a few on such frivolous use.

"I always liked the way it smelled," he informed the orcess.

Rukhash shrugged noncommittally, but watched with rapt interest as Cadoc struck a match and took a series of long puffs. Relaxing the pipe, Cadoc leaned back and blew a trio of well-formed smoke rings into the air. The orcess's golden gaze followed their lazy trail as they floated up to the ceiling of the cave and dissipated upon the rocks. The sharp sound of another match being struck had her turning to face Cadoc, expecting a repeat performance. Instead, her gaze fell on the half lit embers of Cadoc's pipe as the ranger held it towards her.

"You can have a pull if you like," he said companionably. Rukhash eyed the offering in his hand as though it was a live snake.

"Go on," Cadoc urged, noting her dubious expression, "one puff can't harm you."

Rukhash clutched the pipe gingerly and took an awkward pull while Cadoc held a match to the leaf. Mimicking his earlier actions, the orcess sucked in a lungful. She made a face as though she had eaten something vile, and immediately launched into a coughing fit. Great puffs of smoke escaped from her mouth and nose.

"Easy," Cadoc soothed, patting her back. "I was the same when I first started. You get used to it after a while."

Rukhash waved off his attentions. Still coughing, she dragged the back of her hand across her watering eyes. " _Gar_ , that's  _awful_ ," she said, finally regaining her composure. Wrinkling her nose, she swallowed – her throat thick and burning – and smacked her lips together.

"Are you alright?" Cadoc asked, an amused lilt in his tone. Rukhash favored him with a long, withering stare. Then, much to Cadoc's discomfort, she smiled mirthlessly. The orcess rose and went to the far end of the cave where she kept her supplies. She plucked a large jug from beside the pile and returned to his side.

"Since we're tradin' vices," she said, as she pulled the stiff cork from the bottle, "why don't you have a swig'a this?"

Considering her suspicious expression a moment prior, Cadoc did not feel particularly inclined to take the jug she extended towards him.

"What is it?" he asked, staring uncomfortably at the vessel.

"Orc draught," Rukhash replied. She took a long, gulping drink that Cadoc imagined must have reduced the jug's contents by one-tenth. " _Mmph!_ " she grunted appreciatively, and wiped her mouth with the heel of her hand. "This batch came good."

"Draught? Like beer?" Cadoc had never heard of orc beer.

"Sorta," Rukhash said vaguely, an innocuous smile on her face. Her response was suspect, but Cadoc decided to let Rukhash have this small revenge. Besides, he was dead curious as to what was in that jug. She had just taken a large drink out of it, so it couldn't possibly do  _him_  any harm to take a small sip. Cadoc took the jug from Rukhash's waiting hand and gave it a quick, curious sniff. The contents had a sharp, acidic smell. Forsaking caution, the Ranger took a large swallow from the bottle.

He immediately regretted this decision as live fire burned its way down his throat and settled hotly into his gut. An uncomfortable, fierce warmth seemed to spread throughout his body that made him feel all at once remarkably alert and numb. Blinking rapidly, Cadoc felt suddenly attentive to every small detail in the cave. The hiss of the fire, the cold stone floor, the soft howling of the wind outside, Rukhash's quiet breathing, any smell or sound or sensation Cadoc could feel seemed to separate into distinct, isolated phenomenon.

"Fun stuff, yeah?" Rukhash laughed, taking back her draught and gulping down a little more. "How's that leg feel?"

His leg? Cadoc wasn't sure he even  _had_  legs any more.

"Can't feel it, can you?" Rukhash said. "But everythin' else is nice an' sharp, right?"

Cadoc nodded dumbly.

"You know," the orcess continued, "you could proba'ly run halfway home right now. I wouldn't, mind ya – you'd just make 'at break loads worse worse – but that's what the draught is for, really."

"I'd always wondered," Cadoc coughed, finally gaining control of his speech, "how some orc soldiers could endure such grievous injury and still continue to fight."

"Sounds like them lads were dunk," said Rukhash. "My Anbagûrz liked his draught. He were a berserker, so I guess he had a taste for it."

Cadoc regarded her thoughtfully for a long while. She had never mentioned that name before. "Your...Anbagoor...er," Cadoc stumbled over the unfamiliar syllables that she strung together so easily. "Forgive me," he said to her raised brow. "Who?"

"My Anba," she said with a far off smile. "He were my  _shaûk_ , and my sprogs' old dad."

"Your...mate?" Cadoc asked, and decided to take another puff from his pipe.

"Hn," Rukhash nodded staring into the fire as though she was looking at something very far away. "He weren't the sharpest knife, but he were a good dad to our whelps. While he could be, at least."

Cadoc noted the gentle expression in her eyes, very much the same as his sister's when she spoke of her husband. "You loved him," Cadoc said in a soft voice.

Rukhash spared him a dirty look. "Ain't no need to be insulting," she said seriously. "My folk don't go fer that soft shit. He were a good dad and he looked after me an' our kids. Always had my back in a fight. Sides," Rukhash added in a wistful tone, "he had the finest pecker I'd ever seen."

Cadoc, who had been pulling from his lit pipe, immediately began to sputter and cough, his face going red. "I beg your pardon?" he wheezed.

Rukhash collapsed in a fit of laughter. "Har! Yer face," she giggled. "I'm sure that old wife o' yours had some nice things ta say 'bout  _your_  package. It ain't too shabby neither."

"That," Cadoc choked, "is remarkably crude. Ingrid would never say something so filthy."

Rukhash made an unintelligible  _pft_  noise between her lips and waved her hand in front of her as if she was clearing the air. "Yours is such a proper lot," she said rolling her eyes. "Here I keep yackin' on about my kin, but I don' think you've e'er said more 'n a word or two 'bout yours. What's she like, your Ingrid?"

"She isn't  _mine_  any more," Cadoc said tersely.

"Ar'right," Rukhash said slowly, sensing a delicate topic. She took another long swig from her jug. "Well, what about yer  _family_? Got any folk back home?"

"Why do you want to know?" Cadoc asked, suspicious. Rukhash had never shown much interest in his family before.

"'Cuz I'm  _curious_ ," she said. "Ain't I allowed to be? Can't say I ever had the chance to ask a  _tark_ about his own folk."

"That's fair, I suppose," Cadoc said, and lit his pipe again, worrying the stem in his teeth while he stared off into memory. "I have a sister, Edda, ten years my junior" he said at length, "I think you would like her, actually. You remind me of her at times."

"She swears a lot?" Rukhash said with a smirk.

"No," Cadoc smiled, "but she is very straight forward; a no-nonsense sort of woman."

"Sounds like my kind of girl," Rukhash nodded appreciatively.

"She is married to a fine young man, a farmer. They have two children and another on the way. Though," Cadoc paused to do a little math in his head, "I suppose she must have given birth by now. Our mother lives with her on the family farmstead."

"You come from farmers then?" Rukhash asked, trying to imagine Cadoc tending a field of crops. Though she had never seen him wield his weapon, she felt as though that mental image didn't suit him. He had a warrior's look about him, and the scars of a warrior to go with that look. She had an easier time picturing him on a bloody battlefield than she did a farm.

"Edda's husband does," Cadoc clarified. "My father was also a ranger, though he died when I was very young."

Rukhash made a sad little noise in the back of her throat. "Not from orcs, I hope," she said and meant it. For some reason, she did not like the idea of her people doing mischief on Cadoc's family.

"Not from orcs," Cadoc assured her. "He fell very ill one winter and passed away. My mother raised my sister and I on her own. I missed my father, but my mother was to sort of woman to fill both of those shoes in our lives."

Rukhash decided she liked Cadoc's mum, even if she hadn't met the woman. "Sounds like a tough old girl."

"She is quite stalwart," Cadoc chuckled, "though a bit overbearing at times."

"She's got a soft spot for her boy," Rukhash mused. "All mums do."

"I suppose you're right," Cadoc conceded. "Ingrid is often the same way with our son, though he is grown now."

"You got a  _lad_ ," Rukhash said, sounding awed. Her eyes were bright, though Cadoc wasn't sure if it was from emotion or the constant swallows she was taking from the draught.

"We aren't very close," Cadoc explained.

"Why not?" Rukhash asked with a little pout. "Dads should be close wit' their boys."

"It is my own doing," Cadoc admitted, wondering why he would confess this to Rukhash when he barely confessed it to himself. It was easier to blame Ingrid's meddling or her new husband's influence, but Cadoc knew their presence in Holgar's life was not the cause. It was the decided lack of  _his_  presence.

"I was never home enough when he was a lad," Cadoc said his voice quiet and far away, "even after the War. It was easier for me to aid the people of Gondor than it was to remain home for very long. Holgar cannot help that he doesn't know me because of it. After my divorce... I should have been there for him, but I wasn't. It was a selfishness on my part. I could not see past my own pain to recognize his. I do not blame him for his animosity. I would feel the same way in his position."

Rukhash was staring at him, a thoughtful look on her face. She leaned over to pat him comfortingly on the arm. "Ain't never too late to start over," she said in a gentle rumble. "I'd do anything to have my kids back, you shouldn't let yours slip by you."

"He is a man in his own right," Cadoc argued. "He no longer needs his father."

" _Sha_ , what a load a shit," the orcess scolded. "You're just too scared to suck it up an' say yer sorry. All boys need their dad, and all dads need their boys, that's a fact."

Cadoc felt a flame of anger rise and die at her bluntness. He supposed he couldn't expect her to understand the complexities of the situation. Cadoc had written many letters of apology in the past few years, after Holgar had left home. They were too little, too late, and Cadoc was not surprised they remained unanswered. His relationship with his son had always been a cause of regret.

"Perhaps when I have returned to my village, I will take your advice," he said, deciding to humor her. He was not particularly in the mood to explain that appearing at his son's doorstep unannounced would not do him any good.

"See that'chu do," Rukhash said with a long, toothy yawn.

Cadoc smiled wanly. Worrying the stem of his pipe between his teeth, he regarded the orcess for a long minute as she took another massive swallow, her eyes half lidded. He couldn't put his finger on why, but she seemed much older than twenty-three to him. He did not suspect that she had lied about her age, and she really did not  _look_  terribly old – at least, as far as he could tell. She, simply,  _felt_  older; as though she had lived far more than most women her age. Many girls of twelve winters had lost family in the War, but he wondered how many of them were also  _widows._  If her children had been dead for four years at least – for that was the length of time she had told him she was alone in this cave – Rukhash must have had them very young.

"What were they like, your children?"

The moment the question left his mouth, he immediately regretted it. His lips had moved and words came out without his bidding, and, seeing the sick, startled expression on her face, he wished he could gather them back into his mouth.

Rukhash's mouth opened for a moment, but no sound came out.

Sensing her distress, the ranger held up his palm in redress. "Forgive my thoughtlessness. It is not my place to ask of such things."

" _Nar_ ," Rukhash said softly, shaking off her shock. "It's all right. I just... I ain't thought on them in so long." She swallowed roughly, staring at the yawning mouth of the jug.

A still moment passed before she spoke. "My girl, Rangmau, she were just four winters old." A gentle, watery smile lit her mouth. Cadoc remained silent. He had honestly not expected her to answer him at all. "She were a sweet little thing," Rukhash continued with a rough swallow, "and fiery. Had my temper, she did, but she were too adorable to get mad at. My boy Raugvarg, he were... he were only a few days born when the men come for us." Rukhash's face scrunched up and Cadoc wasn't sure if she was ready to scream or ready to cry. "Took me a whole day to birth 'at stubborn boy," she said, and Cadoc could hear the mourning affection in her quiet tone. "He woulda been a big thing, like his old dad."

"I'm sorry," Cadoc whispered, unsure of what else to say.

The orcess laughed, a bitter, hoarse sound. Her whole temperament seemed to shift, the sadness replaced by dark humor. "What're you sorry fer?" she asked him sarcastically. "Were you there when it were done?" A thoughtful, concerned expression knitted her brow, and she keenly searched his face. She regarded him dangerously then, her eyes suddenly sharp.

"Where'd you ride, five years ago?"

A long, punctuated silence stretched between them, and Cadoc realized what she was asking. Even if he wanted to lie to her, he doubted he could. She never mentioned where her clan had settled, and five years past, Cadoc had ridden through several orc encampments in Ithilien among fellow Rangers. He did not, specifically, remember coming across any berserkers or imps during that season, but much of it was a blur. His divorce was still fresh at that point.

"I rode east," Cadoc said, meeting her accusatory glare evenly, "to South Ithilien to aid my comrades in fighting that had broken out near the mountains there. Several villages had been attacked." A relieved look passed over Rukhash's face, and Cadoc released a long breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Then," she said flatly, "you ain't got nothin' ta be sorry fer. We was in the north, deep in the mountains. Ya shouldn't be sorry fer shit you had no part in." Lifting the draught to her lips again, she stopped short and stared into the bottle, annoyed. "Fuck all," she groused, her tone suddenly light. "Gonna regret  _this_  tomorrow."

"You finished it off?" Cadoc asked, a little surprised. She had been steadily drinking throughout their conversation, but still seemed fairly articulate. Cadoc's swig earlier had been negligible, which mean the orcess drank the better part of a quart jug on her own.

"Hn," Rukhash grunted, awkwardly rising to her feet. She swayed a little, but caught herself before she became too unbalanced. "Better catch some shut eye," she said, "sleep it off a bit. You want I should help you to yer spot 'fore I conk out?"

Cadoc's pallet was a few feet away from where they were sitting. Considering the orcess's unsteady footing, Cadoc felt he was better off getting there on his own. "I can manage," he said, declining Rukhash's outstretched hand as she wavered from side to side in front of him. "I think you had better get to your own bed before you fall over," the ranger added with a thin smile.

Shrugging, Rukhash staggered over to her nest of furs and collapsed into them. In moments Cadoc could hear her quite snoring. She seemed to have shaken off her somber mood. Cadoc wondered a little at that, how easily her temperament shifted. He imagined she did not want to dwell on such unpleasantness, but Cadoc could not deny great weight lifted off him, knowing he could not have played a part in her clan's death. There was a terrible grief in her voice as she spoke of her children; a mother's grief. It reminded him, again, for as different as she seemed, Rukhash was not so unlike any woman in that regard. It pained him that he had not thought to look for those similarities sooner. That he had brushed off her people as mindless monsters and beasts. Cadoc may not have been the man that made Rukhash a widow, but he most likely had widowed some female of her kind somewhere. Cadoc believed he must have left many orcish widows in his wake.

Burying those dark thoughts, the ranger took a thought drag from his pipe as he regarded his sleeping orc hostess. While Rukhash appeared no less orcish to Cadoc, he found that his idea of orcishness had changed considerably since he first awoke in Rukhash's cave.

She was not beautiful by any stretch of the word – at least, in the manner that Men considered beauty – but laying there, a slick black lock fallen onto her face and her mouth parted to reveal a particularly crooked fang, Cadoc though she looked remarkably... cute. He imagined she must be considered comely by the standards of her people.

Blinking, Cadoc realized that the leaf was making him too contemplative; sending his mind in all manner of directions it would not have gone otherwise. The ranger stamped down the embers of his pipe and hobbled to his own pallet. He quickly followed Rukhash into a dreamless sleep.


	7. Lost and Found

**Splint**

**Chapter Seven: Lost and Found**

* * *

A long, dreadful groan woke Cadoc from his slumber. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he turned his head slowly towards Rukhash's pallet. Sitting up, with her knees to her chest, the orcess clutched her head as if she were afraid the contents would leak out. The Ranger frowned in sympathy. He remembered many a morning when he felt very much as wretched as Rukhash looked at the moment.

"Rukhash..."

" _Shaddup_ ," she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut. It was hard to tell with her complexion, but Cadoc thought she looked a little green.

"Not feeling so well?" he observed, delicately lowering his voice to a whisper.

Rukhash groaned again, a low sound that was almost a growl. Without a word she leaned forward onto her feet, hovered in a crouch for several long, unsteady seconds, like she might pitch over, and slowly straitened. She practically dragged herself to the far end of the cave. Cadoc sat helplessly as she rummaged through the baskets there, grumbling in orcish. After several minutes of searching she pulled a clay pot from the back of the pile and pulled off the lid.

Her whole face contorted angrily. "Fuck all," she spat. Scowling, she emptied the contents, a mass of moldy black lumps and grey dust, onto the stone floor. "It ain't worth shit now."

"What?" Cadoc blinked, confused.

"It's fer my head," Rukhash said as she rubbed slow circles on her temple. "But it's gone off. Must've gotten water innit somehow." Rukhash glared at the pot as if it had conspired to this end. "Ain't nothin' for it 'cept to get some more. A little air'll probably help me anyways."

Cadoc glanced at the gradually lightening sky. "Are you in the best condition to go out right now?"

" _Skai_ ," Rukhash rumbled as she pulled on her boots in a rough, careless manner. "I been worse off'n this before. Ain't goin' far, but better skip the lessons this mornin'. That sit alright wit' you?"

"I agree," Cadoc said as he watched her bundle up and grab her large satchel. "That would be for the best."

"You had better take a little water with you," he added. "It may help you feel better."

Rukhash glowered at him. "I fuckin' know what to do!" she snapped. "I ain't a fuckin' green arsehole!"

Nodding mutely, Cadoc decided that it was better not to trifle with an orc that had a hangover. With unnecessary violence, Rukhash stuffed a water skin and some hard bread into her pack and stomped wordlessly out into the cold morning.

After he had risen and dressed, Cadoc noticed that she had left her sword carelessly propped next to her bed.

* * *

Her decent from the cave had been miserable, but she felt a little better after emptying the contents of her stomach twice over. Now, the orcess drank greedily from the water skin, glad that Cadoc had reminded her to bring it. She felt a little guilty for snapping at him. After all, it wasn't his fault she had gone and gotten herself drunk.

Rukhash forgot how easy it was to forget your swallows when distracted by conversation. She had always been descent at holding her liquor, so she managed not to embarrass herself the night before, but she felt absolutely haggard now. Her Anbagûrz was the type to finish off several jugs of draught in one go and feel all the better for it the next day, but Rukhash didn't have his tolerance, or his great size. She always felt lousy afterward, no matter how much or how little she drank.

A light dusting of snow had fallen overnight, Though she did find a slippery patch from time to time, it didn't deter her progression to any great extent. She made a sharp turn at the base of the cliff that angled up to her cave, passed the small stream that gurgled along the nearby ridge and headed towards the small grove of willows that she collected bark from; the better part of a morning's walk from her cave. It was a little overdone, heading out to immediately replenish her supplies, but Rukhash found the crisp air was helping her headache. Even now it had dulled to a mild throbbing at her temples.

By the time her destination was near, the sun had risen nearly even with the treetops and the snow was beginning to melt in the weak winter sun. Rukhash stopped to pull a hunk of tack from her satchel and sat on a nearby rock, chewing it slowly and alternating bites of bread and sips of water in hopes of settling her stomach.

Rukhash closed her eyes against the morning light, feeling a little more sensitive than usual towards it. After a time, she noticed that the forest seemed unnaturally quiet. Frowning, the orcess strained her ears against the silence. For a long moment she listened, unsure of what she was listening for. Slowly, startlingly, she realized she heard voices. They seemed far off, but Rukhash leapt to her feet anyway and crouched behind the rock that she was sitting on moments prior, her breakfast forgotten crumbs on the granite.

Smell was an orc's strongest sense, and most of their world, what brought them comfort and excitement and fear, lived in scent. Whether the result of the colder temperature or the fact that she was upwind of the source, Rukhash couldn't smell a thing. Scowling to herself, she focused her ears in the direction she had heard the quiet sounds and listened hard. There it was! Two, different intonations speaking back and forth. It was only an indistinct murmur, but she was sure that it was a conversation she was hearing, and it seemed to come from the little willow grove she was heading towards.

Rukhash worried her lip. What were Men doing in the middle of the wilderness this late in the season? Even worse, what if it wasn't Men she was hearing? Rukhash had never seen an elf in her life, but she didn't plan on starting now. The  _golug hai_  were known for their ruthlessness towards orcs, and Rukhash didn't fancy being part of some exotic elf home cooking.

Of course, it could just as easily be others of her race. The weather was cold enough to erase her scent markings, and since she began tending Cadoc they were mostly neglected anyway. Another orc would never suspect that she was living here. She didn't know what finding others of her ilk would mean for the Ranger back in her cave, but she wasn't prepared to throw away an opportunity to be among her people. Rukhash cursed her unhelpful nose. Taking a steadying breath, she decided it was worth the risk to see what was up ahead.

Creeping slowly through the naked undergrowth, Rukhash determined that the voices were definitely coming from the willows. The orcess was well versed with this area in particular, having been here often to harvest her remedies. Making a wide arc, she circled around the grove to a rocky elevation that overlooked it, thankful that the snowfall had moistened the thick layer of vegetation and made stealthiness an easier goal.

Moving on all fours, she approached a fallen oak at the apex of the incline and peered cautiously over it. A small part of her spirits drooped at the sight below her. She had truly hoped for other orcs.

Two, rough looking men - and Rukhash was grateful they were not accursed elves - sat cross legged across from one another. They had a number of packs between them, and the shining contents were strewn carelessly on the forest floor. There was fine cloth and colorful beads and glinting silver shimmering in the morning sun. The men were rummaging through it all, picking up this and that and examining each item before stacking them in one of two neat piles behind them. Currently, they were arguing over a long strand of pearls that Rukhash could have easily wrapped double around her waist.

"Oi, ya old git," the younger of the two said, and Rukhash marveled at how orcish he sounded, "I done most've the carryin' and strong handin' and so forth. Think I should get a little more fer that." He was as broad as he was tall and dressed in layers of faded wool and old leather. He had a swarthier complexion than his comrade and a slanted cast to his features that Rukhash thought looked suspiciously similar to her own. She wondered if, under his mess of dark whiskers, he might have fangs. He looked a little more mannish than the goblin men that often visited Isengard, but Rukhash was nearly certain there was some orc in his heritage.

"Don't be a idjit," the other replied. This man was fairer, but covered in a dusty layer of grime, so he looked nearly as dark as his younger companion. His hair was a dirty mess of greying blonde frizz that was pulled roughly into a tail at the nape of his neck. "I found the lot of 'em and planned it all. You'd be back at that old tavern with yer thumb up yer arse if it weren't for me."

Each of the two were taking great swigs from their own, dark bottles and seemed all the more cantankerous for it. Rukhash wrinkled her nose as a great gust of cold wind blew their reek in her direction. Now that she was in a better position, she realized that both of the men stunk like drinking, and was a little surprised she had not scented them properly before. She blamed her mild headache and the strong smell of the pines that composed the majority of the mountain forest for masking the men's sour musk.

Satisfied with her discovery, Rukhash felt that it was time to go. Considering how inebriated the men below her were, she wouldn't have to worry about being sneaky. A Mûmakil could thunder through this forest and they probably wouldn't notice. As she turned to leave, she caught the sound of fast approaching hoofbeats and froze. The men below her jumped to their feet, suddenly alert, and Rukhash ducked back behind the rotting log, intent on waiting out this new turn of events. A large, black stallion trotted into the clearing bearing a tall man in a green ranger's cloak.

 _A ranger,_  Rukhash thought and bit the tip of her claw,  _like Cadoc._

The Ranger was not quite like Cadoc, though. He was at least a head taller, easily the tallest man Rukhash had ever seen. His dark, wavy hair was cropped short and untroubled by grey, his blue eyes sharper than new steel. The Ranger dismounted with unhurried confidence in front of the two bandits and drew his sword with a stony expression.

"You are both wanted for robbery and murder," the Ranger stated plainly to the bedraggled duo. "You will give yourselves up and come with me."

 _What a cocky little snit!_  Rukhash laughed to herself. Considering he was outnumbered, she would have expected the Man to use a bit more tact in apprehending his quarry.  _She_  wouldn't have quietly given up if she outnumbered a bloke two to one, even if he was monstrously huge. The men below agreed.

"Here to take us on your own, eh?" the swarthier Man said, raising his sword. He was full of drunken bravado, and Rukhash wondered if he would be so forward had his senses been a little less dulled. The Ranger he challenged was easily over two feet taller and just as broad. Better to hang back and force the larger man to attack them both. The older, obviously wiser, of the bandits stepped back a few paces and drew a long, thin knife. Without preamble the young ruffian charged forward with an almost primal yell.

The tall Ranger sliced up in a tight arc and neatly severed the younger man's head. The bandit's body slumped to the ground unceremoniously. It was over so fast, Rukhash would have missed it if she blinked.

"Or," the tall man said with a hint of exasperation and all the certainty in the world, "we could do this the hard way."

The older bandit lurched forward slightly. Then, obviously thinking better of it, he turned tail and tried to make an escape the only way he could - up the incline and strait for Rukhash's hiding spot.

Maybe it was her headache, or the fact that she had spent the past several weeks among another, more amiable Ranger, but as the man approached the large trunk that hid her Rukhash reacted without thinking. She stood and plowed the man square in the face with her balled fist, knocking him back several feet and down the steep incline, bursting his nose in a little explosion of blood. The old bandit, who was most likely dead considering the force Rukhash put into the blow, fell in a twisted heap at the Ranger's feet. He showed his original quarry no care as he stood staring at Rukhash in disbelief. The orcess stared back, frozen in mute horror.

 _That_ , she thought dazedly,  _is easily the stupidest fucking thing I ever done._

Turning on her heel, Rukhash planned to retreat the way that she came, but the Ranger had already rounded the trees at the base of the slope and cut her off. Rukhash looked back at the fallen log and forward again at the man blocking her path, her jaw hanging open. He moved so quickly, she was sure there must have been two of him.

Rukhash's hand went to her hip and she inwardly cursed. Her sword was left back at her cave, resting comfortably against the wall. The orcess decided a more submissive gesture was called for, and raised her hands into the air.

"I ain't done nothing!" she cried plaintively.

The Ranger's face twisted up into a terrifying expression, and he came at her in great, long strides, his bloodied sword at the ready. As he approached, Rukhash realized this man was easily as tall as Anbagûrz, for she barely reached the swell of his chest. Rukhash stumbled back in a panic. Her heel caught on a root and the world spun dizzily as she tumbled onto her back. The press of cold, hard steel appeared suddenly at her throat.

" _Orc_ ," the ranger rumbled and Rukhash winced at his tone. "What are you doing here? Are you a part of this band?"

"No sir!" Rukhash replied. She may not have been a part of the Black Army, but Rukhash knew that if someone had a blade at your throat, you had better address them properly.

"Then what are you doing here?" The razor edge of the sword dipped a little closer and Rukhash pressed her head as far back into the rotting foliage as it would go.

"I's mindin' my own business," she insisted, falling back on the tiny voiced, diminutive way of speaking she had used when she was younger and looking at a beating in her near future. "I live here."

"You live here?" the ranger asked incredulously.

"Well," Rukhash clarified, her voice shaking, "not  _here_ , sir, so much as  _around_ here." She was very sure that, somewhere in the orcish afterlife, her mother was hanging her head in shame.

 _Some fighting Uruk hai I am_ , she though crossly as she trembled.

"Where are your fellows?" The Ranger's eyes narrowed and darted around briefly, as if he expected a troop of orcs to burst from the trees at any moment .

"My... what?"

"Your fellows!" the Ranger bellowed leaning over her menacingly.

Rukhash opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to decide if she was better off lying or telling the truth.

"Ain't got no fellows," she replied in a small voice, not sure if Cadoc counted as a "fellow." She was fairly certain the Ranger threatening her meant "fellow orcs." Her thoughts went to the gentler Man in her cave, who had managed to overcome his unease with her enough to form something like camaraderie between them. She wondered if Cadoc might return the favor of saving his life.

"Except there's one a your folk's with me," she added.

"One of my folk?" the tall man asked dubiously.

"He's a Ranger like you, sir," Rukhash clarified. "His name's Cadoc."

"Cadoc?" The blade at Rukhash's throat relaxed a few inches, but returned just as quickly. "What do you know of him? I have just been to his sister's home, and she grieves him even now."

"He ain't dead," Rukhash assured the man, relieved that this ranger knew her ranger. "He took a bad fall near two moon past and I patched him up. I could take you to him...  _He'll_  vouch for me! I ain't done no harm to no one."

The Ranger stepped back a few paces and Rukhash stumbled clumsily to her feet. They stood across from each other for a long time. Rukhash worried her lip while the man scrutinized her.

"If this is a falsehood," the Ranger warned her dangerously, "I will see your end is all the worse for it."

"I ain't bein' false," Rukhash insisted, feeling a little braver now that her aggressor was a safe distance away. She straitened her rumpled tunic and cloak and turned up her nose indignantly.

"Very well," the Ranger said. The man turned his head and whistled sharply through his teeth. The great, black stallion picked it's way through the dense thicket and came to stand at his side, a ridiculous, glossy, mountain of horse. The man took the reins in his large, gloved hands and stared at Rukhash expectantly.

"Take me to Cadoc, orc."

* * *

Cadoc was feeling mighty pleased with himself.

After Rukhash's hasty departure Cadoc felt that some cheering up was in order. She had been in such a terrible state when she left, and Cadoc thought to spare her the tedious act of preparing their meal and cleaning up the cave.

If there was one thing he learned from his failed marriage, it was that women appreciated little things, like having supper ready when they came home and hanging out the laundry once in a while. He hoped sparing Rukhash an extra chore would put her in better spirits. It also helped that years of roaming the wilds and unabashed bachelorhood had made Cadoc a fairly decent cook, which was something he could not say of his orc hostess. Rukhash seemed to prefer most of her meals raw and bloody or barely boiled and despite having all of the ingredients, never thought of putting a stew together. The most complicated concoction he ever saw her make was her healing salves and ointments. Cadoc had no intention of insulting her cooking, but he wouldn't mind one night of food he was more accustomed to.

Rukhash did more than dry vast quantities of meat. Her outings also included lengthy foraging for roots and herbs. Some Cadoc could not recognize, but he found wild parsnips and carrot, dried burdock roots, some tiny onions and puffball mushrooms. There was a good amount of fresh deer still to be butchered, and the colder air in the far corner of the cave ensured that it didn't spoil. Cadoc removed the choicer pieces, cutting them small and adding them into the large stewing pot with the other ingredients. He threw in a few rib bones to sweeten the broth, and thanked the Valar that Rukhash was in the habit of storing a few days worth of water at a time, since he had no idea where she drew it from.

Once he had supper going, Cadoc went about tidying up the cave. Rukhash left him little to do, but he found that the bedrolls could use some airing out, so he dragged them outside and unrolled them in the sun. The Ranger had not left the interior of the cave since Rukhash brought him here over a month past. Now he was able to look out over the heavily forested landscape as it sprawled to the horizon punctuated by the occasional craggy peak.

The cave was far up the side of the mountain, and there was a steep drop several feet from the entrance straghit into a tree lined gully. A narrow trail led down the side of the rocky slope to the softer earth below. From his perch Cadoc could see that the trees slanted down sharply for several hundred yards before evening out. It was a treacherous, but picturesque scene, and Cadoc stretched in the late morning sun, reveling in its warmth.

Cadoc rolled some good sized rocks onto the bedding to keep the sharp gusts of wind from blowing them away, and returned to his packs to find the small pinch of pipe-weed he knew was left.

He enjoyed a long smoke while he rested his leg from the morning's exertion. A mild feeling of concern swept over him at Rukhash's prolonged absence, but Cadoc felt secure that the orcess could take care of herself. He did bemoan the fact that she had left her sword behind, but considering how rarely she used it, Cadoc assumed that it would hardly be missed.

After shaking out the bedding and rolling them up, Cadoc returned them to their places and stirred supper. Another pinch of pipe weed, and he was outside again, sharpening his sword with long, even strokes. It was a moot point by now, but Cadoc found great comfort in the familiarity of the task.

The morning wore on. Soon it was mid afternoon with no sign of Rukhash and Cadoc felt himself growing anxious. He took to his laps around the cave, pausing occasionally to tend their supper. Deciding he needed another task to bide his time, Cadoc retrieved Rukhash's sword from its place at the wall. Her orcish blade had an edge of jagged teeth and sharpening it was a tricker, more time consuming task.

He honed Rukhash's blade to an edge that could split a hair and, feeling a hint of panic that she had not returned, was nearly ready to hazard a climb down the side of the mountain. Thankfully, he heard the telltale signs of Rukhash's return. There was a shuffling at the cave entrance and Cadoc straitened to greet his hostess.

Rukhash appeared at the threshold, her expression grave. Cadoc caught the bright flash of steel against behind her and immediately tensed. The tall figure that appeared behind her shocked Cadoc into speechlessness.

The last person Cadoc expected to see at the threshold of Rukhash's cave was the tall ranger now looming menacingly over his hostess.

"Hedon!" Cadoc exclaimed, excited to see his old friend, despite a nagging concern for the sword at Rukhash's back.

"Cadoc," the man said, stoic, but obviously relieved. He did not move the blade from its threatening position. "I'm glad to see you are well."

Rukhash stood stiffly through their exchange and felt all her hopes die out.


	8. Intensions

**Splint  
Chapter 8: Intensions**

* * *

With a wary eye on the blade pressed to Rukhash's back, Cadoc limped resolutely to the mouth of the cave. Hedon towered over the orcess, and Cadoc was struck by how helpless she looked beside his great size. Her expression was indiscernible, but Cadoc could sense her discomfort and the air of tense hostility between the Rukhash and his old friend.

Though an imposing figure, but Cadoc still saw Hedon as the gangly youth he trained long ago. The two of them rode together for many years, both during the War and after. This was the first season in over decade that Cadoc did not have Hedon at his side, for the younger ranger chose to remain with his wife after she brought their second child into the world the previous winter. Hedon had nothing but insurmountable devotion when it came to his small family. Cadoc always assumed it was because Hedon had no relatives of his own. None that he cared to consort with, at any rate.

"There is no need for violence here," Cadoc addressed the younger ranger, raising his free hand in a placating gesture. "Please, my friend, withdraw your weapon."

Hedon snorted but sheathed his sword. "This  _creature_  tells me that you would vouch for its life." His tone held all the arrogance Cadoc would expect of the younger man.

Much to cadoc's relief, Rukhash did not make a scathing retort, but bowed her head and backed away from Hedon, wrapping her arms around her middle. Cadoc cast a soft expression of thankfulness towards her. She was making it much easier for him to diffuse this situation. "She speaks the truth," Cadoc affirmed.

"She?" Hedon barked, turning his attention towards Rukhash with a doubtful expression. " _That_  is a  _she_?"

The orcess glowered at the man, but held her tongue, her mouth drawn in a thin, frustrated line. Cadoc felt insulted on her behalf, even though he did not guess her gender on their fist meeting either.

Hedon addressed her in a tone that one might use scold a dog, "Orc, leave us."

Fuming, Rukhash decided she had just about enough of this  _pushdug_  bastard's lip. She had been docile and genial the whole way here, doing her best to show this man that she meant no harm, but she had her limits. After her pitiful performance in the grove, she felt she owed this human a little nastiness.

" _Sha_ ," she hissed vehemently, showing her teeth, "leave yerself then, ya great cunt! This is  _my_ fucking house, bossy  _tark_."

Hedon's expression twisted into something furious as he prepared to draw his sword. "Filthy beast," he snarled.

Rukhash pinned her ears back and growled aggressively, refusing to submit. She had done enough cowering today! Already she could feel the hot rush of murder in her veins.

" _Enough!_ " Cadoc bellowed.

The orcess and the young ranger immediately froze, withdrawing with contrite expressions. Cadoc's tone was unlike anything Rukhash had ever heard from him before. It was not so much that his voice was raised – in the first weeks of his stay he had raised his voice to her quite often – rather, there was so much  _authority_ in that one word, like the inarguable command of an orcish officer. Considering his generally calm and affable demeanor, it was more forceful than she would ever have given him credit for.

"I would have expected more manners from you, Hedon," Cadoc said, calmer, his voice closer to its normal, soft tenor, but no less stern. "Rukhash is right. This is her home, and we are guests here. You should behave as such." Hedon bowed his head and shuffled his feet like a chastised child, and Rukhash had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep a triumphant smile from showing. "Rukhash," Cadoc addressed her in a gentler manner, "could you leave us to speak alone for a while? There is much we need to discuss."

Feeling a little hurt that Cadoc wanted her gone, the she orc nodded and retreated to the far ledge outside the cave. She heard Hedon enter her home, but focused her ears outward towards the forest. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear what they would discuss.

Cadoc would be leaving now, she was sure of it. He would forget his promise to her. Worse yet, she was no longer safe here, not when  _two_  rangers knew the location of her cave. Rukhash had come to trust Cadoc. He struck her as a generally honest person. But his young friend obviously despised her. She could easily imagine Hedon leading a group here to destroy her.

Rukhash stared out into the waning afternoon feeling even more miserable and wretched than when she woke.

* * *

"I hope you will forgive my state of dress," Cadoc smiled ruefully as he led Hedon further into the cave. "I'm afraid many of my clothes were too ruined to salvage."

"I was sure that you were dead and I was being lead into a trap," Hedon said quietly.

"As you can see, that is not the case" Cadoc hobbled towards his pallet and shimmied down his crutch, plopping awkwardly to the ground with a grunt.

Leaning against a nearby wall, Hedon surveyed the rest of the cave with a curious expression. "How long have you been here?" he asked, noting the large pile of supplies stashed in the far corner.

"Well over a month; perhaps, even two," Cadoc replied as he rubbed his aching thigh. "Rukhash has been here much longer than that."

"So the orc spoke the truth." Hedon crossed his arms, regarding Cadoc for a long moment. "It told me that it saved your life."

"She has a  _name_ ," Cadoc said sternly. "And, yes, Rukhash is responsible for saving my life. She is a healer."

Hedon snorted. "An orcish healer? I have never heard of such a thing."

"Neither had I," Cadoc conceded. "Yet here she is, and I am grateful for it."

Hedon mutely contemplated Cadoc for a long while, his bedraggled state of dress and roughly shaved beard. Despite his odd, primitive clothing and the obvious injury to his leg, Cadoc seemed well fed, clean and hardly a prisoner. The orc left them to their conversation with little more than a forlorn look. Hedon wondered what the orc was playing at, and what sort of lies it had told his mentor.

"You show this creature more consideration than it deserves," he grumbled. "Cadoc, it is an  _orc_. It should not be trusted. I doubt it saved you out of the goodness of its black heart."

"She was lonely," Cadoc said quietly, staring into the fire.

" _Lonely_ ," Hedon echoed flatly.

"She has been alone for the past four winters," Cadoc explained and smiled with quiet humor. "She said that she thought I would be good company."

"You see!" Hedon felt vindicated. "Its motives were completely self serving. If there were other orcs here it would have most likely left you to die. Or worse! And yet, you speak as if you are friendly with this animal."

"Rukhash is not an  _animal_ ," Cadoc said definitively. "She is remarkably skilled  _and_  intelligent. As for her motives, I will admit that she was not being completely selfless, but that does not change the fact that she was able to see past the animosity between our people in order to help me. I have gotten to know her well over these past weeks. I have come to consider her a friend."

"Your  _friend_  did murder today," Hedon growled, his eyes flashing.

"What?"

"It killed one of the men I pursued," Hedon explained. "That is why I am in these foothills. I was tracking a group of thieves. When I came upon them, one tried to flee and the orc killed him with one blow."

Cadoc blinked incredulously. "And what of the others?"

"There was only one other," Hedon huffed. "He drew a sword on me and I slew him."

"She assisted you," Cadoc reasoned, leaning back against the stone wall.

"I did not require the assistance of such a creature!" Hedon shouted. "I was sent here to retrieve the goods stolen and take the perpetrators into custody so that justice would be done."

"And yet you killed one of these men yourself," Cadoc replied logically. "Do you now hold authority to sentence men?"

"He pulled a sword on me," Hedon growled defensively.

Cadoc's eyes narrowed. "I have known you many years, my friend. I know that you are capable of disarming a man easily. I  _also_  know that you have a tendency toward heavy handedness."

"What are you suggesting?" Hedon looked furious.

"I suggest nothing," Cadoc said calmly, waving his hand as if to clear his accusation. "However, I wonder if you could look into yourself and see another end to that altercation. Is what you did any less murder than Rukhash's actions?"

Hedon silently fumed. As they spoke he had begun to pace before Cadoc and he now stood in front of where the older man sat. Crouching down, Hedon regarded the older Ranger for a long, careful moment. "Has this creature bewitched you," Hedon asked seriously, "that you would defend it so loyally?"

Cadoc burst out into a fit of laughter; not the best response, considering Hedon's grim reaction, but really, what a ridiculous suggestion! Cadoc did not think his young comrade was so superstitious. "No, my friend," Cadoc chuckled and clasped the man's shoulder companionably.

Wiping an errant tear from his eye, Cadoc regarded Hedon more seriously. "Have you ever considered the narrow circumstance in which we have engaged with orcs? Man has ever known them as an enemy."

"With good reason!" Hedon interjected, unsure of the excitement in Cadoc's tone. He sounded as if he felt he had made some great discovery, and Hedon was very sure there was nothing about orcs worth discovering. He had seen enough of their depravity and malice to confirm that.

"Indeed," Cadoc conceded. "When they fought under the banner of the Shadow, they could be nothing more than our most bitter adversaries. However, now that the Dark Lord is gone, they are just as much a free people as our own, and able to carve their own course in life."

"Rukhash is more than just an orc," Cadoc continued. "She is a widow and a grieving mother. She has lost her entire family to war and persecution. That is why she is alone here. I pity her, Hedon. No one should endure such loss."

"Many have, and at the hands of  _orcs_ ," Hedon argued.

"But not  _this_  orc," Cadoc replied sharply. "She was not a soldier in the war, and afterward she tried to start a family only to have them slain by orc hunters. Is it fair to place the blame of the most vicious of her race on her shoulders? Would  _you_  wish to carry the sins of the man you slew today?"

Cadoc could see he was making his point. Hedon's brow furrowed, a contemplative look on his face. Now would be the best time to impart his plan. "I have made a promise to her."

Hedon was immediately suspicious. "What sort of  _promise_?"

"I told her, once my leg is healed, I would see her safely to Mordor."

Cadoc watched a number of expressions dance across Hedon's face, but eventually it was concern that came to live there. "You intend to go into Mordor?" Hedon asked slowly.

"No," Cadoc replied, "I will see her safely through Gondor to the border of Nûrn. I doubt I would be any more than a hindrance once she was in her own country."

Taking a long, slow breath through his nose, Hedon asked, "And what will you do until then? I thought to take you home, but you sound as if you intend to stay here."

"I would hate for my dear sister to worry over me all winter," Cadoc admitted with a small smile.

His comrade looked relieved. "So you will come with me, then?"

"I will."

"And what do you intend to do about the orc?"

Cadoc laid his crutch across his lap. He had considered his options regarding Rukhash the moment he saw Hedon at her back. "What I intend..." Cadoc mused to himself. He regarded his young friend with a serious expression. "I intend to persuade her to come with us."

* * *

Rukhash gazed sullenly at the red sky. It had all gone sour so quickly, and the orcess thought of a million tiny things she might have done differently in the past several hours. In the end, though, she decided that this whole situation could have been avoided if she had just stayed in bed this morning.

Cadoc and Hedon's conversation became too loud for her to ignore, so she moved a little further down the narrow trail that led to her cave. Now she sat with her legs dangling over the sheer edge, kicking against the stone. She looked down and realized Hedon's monstrous mount was tied up directly below her. Sucking a great ball of phlegm into the back of her throat, Rukhash leaned over the edge and spat. Below her, the horse whinnied indignantly and Rukhash grinned with petty vengeance.

Cadoc called for her from the mouth of the cave and the orcess looked up sheepishly. The ranger motioned for her to come inside, but otherwise showed no sign that he spotted her little show of nastiness. She abandoned her perch, casting one last spiteful glare toward the steed below, and followed.

Hedon was propped against the wall near Cadoc's pallet, and Rukhash gave him a wide berth as she circled around to her own bed. Casting off her cloak and heavy vest, she flopped unceremoniously onto her bedding.

"I am sorry to keep you out in the cold so long," Cadoc apologized.

" _Sha_ ," the orcess growled, "cold don't bugger my lot so much." Still, she rubbed her arms out of anxious habit. Hedon watched her like a hawk from his place against the wall.

"What's all this, then?" Rukhash said, finally noticing the enticing smells coming from her large cooking pot. She leaned over the brim, staring at the dark, bubbling brew.

"I decided to do a little cooking," Cadoc replied, his tone light.

The orcess took a few experimental sniffs. "There sage in this?" Rukhash glowered at Cadoc. "You know how hard it is findin'  _sage_  this late in the season?"

"I assure you," Cadoc waved her off, "I only used a little bit."

Rukhash  _harrumphed_. She looked up to find a bemused expression on Hedon's face. The younger ranger hadn't made so much as a peep since she returned, but his gloomy disposition was enough to impart his opinion on the situation.

"Why don't you get a few bowls?" Cadoc said companionably. "I'm sure you both must be hungry after your exertions today."

Rukhash spared Hedon a withering glare as she retrieved three bowls and flat pieces of tack from the far corner. The orcess ladled out their portions and served the rangers, noting Hedon's loathing as she handed him his supper.

She had to admit, Cadoc's cooking wasn't half bad; even if the meat was a little overdone for her liking. She might have rather enjoyed it, if their meal was not conducted with the most awkward, brooding silence Rukhash had ever experienced. Every time Rukhash glanced in the direction of her newest guest he was glowering; giving her the dirtiest look she had ever endured. The orcess found the situation altogether uncomfortable, and wished the other Ranger would leave her and Cadoc in peace.

It was Cadoc who broke the tension with conversation."Hedon and I have been talking. I have a proposition for you, Rukhash."

Rukhash narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What sorta 'proposition'?"

"He intends for you to return home with him," Hedon interjected, his disgust with the idea evident in his voice.

Rukhash glared at Cadoc as if he had just told her up was down and wargs could fly. "Are you outta yer fuckin'  _mind_?"

"My sentiments exactly," Hedon grumbled under his breath.

"Well, at least you two can  _agree_  on something," Cadoc snapped. "Rukhash, do you truly relish remaining alone here for the coming winter?"

"Can't stay here," the orcess rumbled, scowling at Hedon in the far corner.

"Why not?" Following her gloomy stare, Cadoc turned his attention to a guilty looking Hedon.

"Others have a right to know that there is an orc here."

He could not believe the words out of Hedon's mouth. He did not expect such cruelty from his former pupil. "'Others' would  _slay_  her without a second thought! She has saved my  _life_. That should not be returned with betrayal." Returning his attention to the quiet orcess in the far corner, Cadoc realized that her eyes were bright with emotion. She looked defeated. "I assure you," he told her earnestly, "Hedon will not betray your hiding place."

"You do not speak for me!" Hedon roared, slamming the bowl on the stone floor before jumping to his feet. "I will not sit here and listen to this nonsense! I am going to retrieve the stolen goods so I might remit them to their rightful owner. I will return here in the morning," Hedon addressed Cadoc alone. "If you are coming with me, be ready then, but I will  _not_  allow this beast to follow!" The larger man stormed out of the cave leaving a wake of silence behind him.

Rukhash had endured just about all she could that day, and covered her face as she wept miserably. She heard a scuffling scraping sound as Cadoc repositioned himself, and a comforting arm went around her shaking shoulders.

"You're... gonna forget... your promise," Rukhash hiccuped.

"I will do no such thing," Cadoc told her fiercely, "and I will not allow Hedon to cause you trouble. Come with me! I assure you my sister is much more open minded than a young, brash ranger."

Rukhash sniffed and regarded the man she had saved. He seemed so earnest, so assured that he could protect her from the animosity of his people, but Rukhash wasn't so confident. She was positive that going to Cadoc's village would only result in a stretched neck.

Sensing her hesitance, Cadoc decided to try another tactic. "At least follow me there," he reasoned. "That way we can meet again in spring and I will lead you home to Mordor." Cadoc saw her lip dip in between her fangs as she worried it, and he was relieved to see she was debating his idea. If she was required to move at some point during the winter, she would need to know where to find him. Cadoc knew, if she chose to hide herself somewhere else, it would be nearly impossible to find  _her_.

"Maybe..." the orcess mumbled staring at the cold, stone floor. "I'll track you both. Make sure you don't duck out on me, since you owe me. 'Sides," she continued with a frown, "you might run inta trouble that ox can't handle. There seem to be more folk about than normal fer this time a year."

"Speaking of that," Cadoc said with a smile he hoped was disarming, "I was wondering if you might do me a favor."

"Yea?" Rukhash glowered. "Like  _what_?"

"Hedon has always been hot headed," Cadoc explained, nodding towards the threshold that the younger ranger had stormed through. "Could you follow him? You don't have to let him see you, but I fear for his safety alone in the darkness."

Rukhash's mouth firmed rebelliously.

"Please, Rukhash," Cadoc beseeched, "for me."

" _Skai_ , if yer gonna make  _eyes_  at me..." Rukhash let her answer hang in the air as she rolled sluggishly to her feet and walked towards the far wall where her sword was propped.

"Thank you," Cadoc said simply as the she orc throw on her cloak.

Rukhash made double sure she had her bow and sword before she set out into the night.

Hedon was positive that the beast had done something unnatural to Cadoc. In all the years that the two men had been friends, Cadoc had only showed disdain for the race of orc. Now, he stalwartly defended one. Perhaps the creature had done no real mischief, but Hedon wasn't so sure. Their kind spread nothing but treachery and lies.

Brooding, Hedon strode through the dense forest, leading his stallion. As a ranger, his sense of direction was better than most, but the gathering gloom made the rocky landscape bleed into itself. He had to double back several times to find the trail that he had marked as the orc led him to its cave. The night had turned black and moonless by the time he reached the small grove where he challenged the bandits, and Hedon cursed the fact that he had not thought to bring a torch with him. His horse startled, rearing back and Hedon had to firm his grip on the animal.

"Easy boy," he soothed, patting its snout. "What do you sense?"

There was low snuffing, growling sound from the trees ahead and a rustling in the undergrowth. Releasing his horse, Hedon drew his blade, creeping forward as his steed danced nervously. Belegroch was a war horse, so Hedon did not expect him to bolt in the face of danger, but the stallion's anxiety was a sign that something more dangerous than dead bodies resided in that grove. The gruesome sight that was revealed as he crossed the brace of trees caused him to stop short. The grove was awash with blood as nearly a dozen wolves feasted messily on the remains of the two men felled earlier. Hedon sucked in a startled breath. All at once, ten pairs of shining eyes alighted on him, and the ranger swallowed thickly.

Without warning, the nearest wolf leapt forward with a barking howl, snapping its jaws at the ranger's middle. Hedon knocked it down with the hilt of his sword as another wolf circled and took hold of his cloak, growling and dragging the ranger back. hedon flailed helplessly, and the rest of the pack advanced. He stabbed at a beast as it bit into his thigh, then rounded and decapitated the wolf tearing at his cape. The other wolves circled cautiously in the wake of their pack-mates' end. Holding the deep gash on his leg, Hedon struggled to catch his breath, and prepared for the battle to come.

One of the wolves yelped suddenly and crumpled to the ground, a black arrow sticking from its shaggy neck. Hedon gawked as Cadoc's orc leapt between him and the wolf pack with a terrible snarl. The seven surviving animals retreated slightly in the face of this new, uninjured opponent. The orc drew its sword, roaring with a ferocity that rattled Hedon's bones. It struck out at the nearest wolf, slicing it across the face, and the animal immediately retreated into the forest with a pained whine. With the same swift violence, the orc brought its claws down on another beast and threw it back several feet.

This was too much for the remaining animals. They turned and bounded into the night. One braver wolf caught its jaws around the leg of a dead bandit as it retreated and dragged the body into the forest, intent on keeping its supper.

"I did not require your assistance," Hedon growled to the back of the orc's head.

The orc sheathed its sword and turned, regarding him haughtily. "You're  _welcome_." Its eyes glowed eerily in the darkness and Hedon took an unconscious step back, feeling uncomfortably out of his element.

"Let's have a look at that," the beast nodded towards his injured leg. Hedon reluctantly allowed it to kneel before him and inspect the injury. "This'll need a few stitches," it informed him as it prodded the bite gently. The orc tore a length from its tunic and pressed it to the bleeding wound with a surprising amount of pressure. Hedon did not expect so much strength from such a small creature. It tied off the makeshift bandage and stood to face him.

"Why are you out here?" Hedon asked suspiciously.

"Cadoc asked me," the orc said simply. "You could get yourself killt for all I care, but that old git was worried about ya."

"And you agreed?" Hedon replied, honestly surprised.

The orc wrinkled its nose. "Kept makin' eyes at me," it said. "He can lay a real guilt trip when he's in the mood fer it." The orc growled under its breath. It seemed just as unhappy about Cadoc's request. "I can take care a that back home," the orc continued, gesturing towards his bloodied leg.

"First I must collect the items here," Hedon said, motioning towards the untouched piles of jewels and silks. "I don't suppose you would mind helping me?"

The orc turned and regarded the finery strewn about the forest floor with a thoughtful frown. Hedon was struck with the realization that, in all of his adult life, he had never been so close to an orc without having to battle it. When it wasn't snarling and cursing, Hedon had to admit, the orc looked almost... civil. Almost. "What'd them lads do," it said at length, "rob a dragon?"

"No," he replied, and caught himself before he smiled. "They robbed a wealthy merchant as he was en route. I will return this merchandise to his widow."

The orc grunted. Without further protest it began piling the wares into the satchels that were laying nearby. Hedon paused for a moment to steady himself and stooped to help the creature. They gathered up the wayward treasure, picking through the leaves and dying brush to make sure none went missing. Despite himself, Hedon was thankful for the orc's assistance. It seemed far less burdened by the darkness than he.

Hedon regarded the orc as it handed him the last of the satchels to load onto his steed. The dim lighting made it hard to see, but it's eyes were visible enough, cold and hard and calculating. The young ranger felt as though he were being sized up. Still, the creature helped him, and it didn't have to. It could have waited until he fell to a messy end and returned to Cadoc with a lie that it was too late to save him from the wolves. Hedon's jaw tightened, and he tried to look at an orc as something other than an enemy.

"I think I was wrong about you, orc," the Ranger said at length, sounding unsure.

"Name's  _Rukhash_ ," the orc grumbled glaring at him pointedly.

"Rukhash," Hedon echoed. It sounded less like a name and more like he was rudely clearing his throat. "Cadoc intends to take you with him."

The orc huffed and rolled its eyes petulantly. "It's what he said," the orc acknowledged. "Told him I'd see him home. That is," it eyed the broadsword at Hedon's side warily, "so long as I won't loose my head over it."

"I don't think you will," the young ranger conceded. "Though, I will admit that I still do not trust you."

"Good," the orc replied. "Don't fucking trust you neither."

Hedon firmed his jaw and stared into the orcs alarming yellow eyes. It was such an alien looking creature. "You know, he will try to persuade you to stay with him," Hedon stated, curious to what it thought about that.

"Don't plan on stayin'," the orc growled back hotly, and Hedon felt a sense of relief. If it had been over eager to meet Cadoc's family, Hedon would be concerned that the beast meant to do them mischief, but the orc seemed just as reluctant towards the idea as Hedon was.

The young Ranger raised an amused brow. "I don't think you appreciate how convincing Cadoc can be," Hedon said with a knowing smirk.

The orc grunted and glared at the fallen wolves. A thoughtful look came over its face. "Think I got a good enough idea of it."

"Well," Hedon sighed, "I think we should be off. Especially if you will need to stitch my leg tonight. We have a long journey ahead of us, after all." The orc nodded, an unreadable expression on its face. Hedon shuffled uncomfortably while Rukhash remained stoic and unmoving. They stood there in awkward silence for several, long seconds while the headstrong young ranger worked up the humility to request the orcess's assistance.

"I don't suppose you mind leading the way?" he asked at last. "I will admit I do not know this area well, and your eyes are superior to mine in this gloom."

A knowing, little smile tugged at Rukhash's lips. The orc turned and headed into the night. Hedon followed.

* * *

**Last Edited: June 2014**


	9. Homecoming

**Splint**

**Chapter 9: Homecoming**

**AN:**  A big thank you to Valerianus for being my proof reader. Many mistakes were caught ;?

* * *

Edda woke with the dawn. Rolling over lazily, she lay for a long while on her husband's cool side of the bed. Elador had left the day prior with their son to take the last of their farm's butchery to market. The village was the better part of a day away, and he would most likely not return until nightfall.

Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Edda glared at the lightening sky. The past week had been spent slaughtering pigs and cattle. Despite the hired help, the whole portion of their family was required to pitch in, and she was still sore from the hauling and lifting and butchering and smoking. It was the last big push of the year to see their farm through the winter. Now, the extra hands had gone back to their own small homesteads and Edda was left with the lighter responsibilities of her mother and children. The winter rye was ground and stored and the wine was ripening in the cellar. It had been a good year for them. The weather was warmer than usual and the breeding stock had produced in unusual quantity. It would afford them a more comfortable winter than their already comfortable winters. Already, Edda's teenage daughter, Morwen, was looking at fine wool dresses to wear to the winter festival.

Throwing on a simple dress and one of her heavier shawls, Edda headed into the kitchen to toast the oats for the morning meal. She paused briefly at the mantle in the main room, running her fingers along the smooth dark box that contained Cadoc's stipend for the season. Edda could still recount standing at the front porch as she watched Hedon's ominous black stallion ride towards her house. In a part of her soul **,**  she always knew this day was coming. Cadoc loved the wild places of the world, and Edda realized that one day the wilderness would take him forever, but knowledge did little in that moment to ease her grief. She wailed and wept even as Hedon dismounted, his expression stonier than a grave, and climbed the porch steps to stand before her. Edda could not recall the comforting words he tried to impart, but she remembered the horrible feel of the small, dark chest as it was placed in her hands with a terrible finality.

Edda found her mother had beaten her to the kitchen. Guthwen already had the oats toasted and set aside. There was a pot of tea brewed and a cup laid out, but Guthwen was nowhere in sight. Edda knew where she would find the house matriarch. She poured herself a cup of tea and stepped out onto the cool morning to stand beside her mother on the porch. It was beginning to become a ritual. Edda knew that Guthwen clung to some thread of hope that her son would ride out of the forest bordering the farmstead, his bright smile flashing in the morning light.

The light on this morning left something to be desired. The air was cool, but unusually humid **,**  and a dense layer of fog crept along the fields and barns and store houses, lending an ominous feel to the landscape. In the East, Edda could see the sun beginning to break through the haze.

"Best go in, ma," Edda said softly, laying a gentle hand on her mother's shoulder. "I need to get breakfast started and wake Morwen up."

The older woman did not seem ready to budge. "They never found him **,**  Eddawen," she said quietly. "What will he think if I'm not out here waiting for him?"

"He will think we've gone and let the whole farmstead go to pot," Edda said seriously. She, too, mourned her brother, but life could not stop because of it.

"I'll just be a bit longer," Guthwen said with a long sigh.

Edda downed her tea in one gulp and returned to the kitchen, pouring some water and milk in with the oats and laying the large cast iron skillet on the stately wood stove. She was stirring the meal vigorously when a startled yell from the porch nearly caused her to jump clear out of her apron.

"Edda!" her mother called frantically. "Edda, come quickly!"

Grumbling to herself, for she was sure her mother had spotted a mere doe or crane and was overreacting, Edda pulled their breakfast from the heat and set it on the table. With long, annoyed strides, Edda crossed the kitchen and came alongside her mother at the edge of the porch. Guthwen was staring out towards the tree line, her mouth gaping in startled shock.

Edda immediately recognized Hedon's large, black mount, but the intimidating form of the ranger was alongside the horse, leading it by the bridle. Behind him, a small, dark figure loped along, obscured by a heavy fur cloak and hood. Edda's attention, however, was on her brother, who sat awkwardly in the saddle.

Cadoc had obviously lost a significant amount of weight. He was dressed strangely, in a fur vest and breeches over a leather tunic. His peppered hair was pulled back and he looked as though he had shaved recently **,**  though, as the group approached, Edda could see a dark shadow of stubble was already beginning to grow. Most notably, his right leg was encased in a strangely fashioned wooden splint, and a crude crutch lay across his lap.

Despite his odd appearance, it was definitely Cadoc seated on Hedon's mount, appearing like a spirit out of the mist. Edda saw her mother collapse to her knees from the corner of her eye and a keening wail rose up out of the older woman's throat. Edda found herself completely speechless. As Hedon drew the horse to a halt, Edda's feet seemed to move of their own accord, and she found herself crossing the several yards between the porch and her brother in a kind of bewildered haze.

Edda stood with her fists balled in her skirts as Hedon helped Cadoc awkwardly dismount. The moment her brother's footing was sure, Edda launched herself into his arms, hugging him as fiercely as she dared. She could barely believe he was here and whole and  _alive_. She buried her face into his chest and wept with mad relief. Her mother soon joined in the embrace, and soon Cadoc had two women wrapped around his middle. His great arms went around them both, and Edda heard his familiar chuckle rumble warmly against her ear.

"I see that you have missed me," he laughed.

"Oh, Hedon," Guthwen cried as she took the large man's hands, "you've brought him home to us!"

"It's no trouble, ma'am," the ranger replied with a light blush.

Her exuberance passed, Edda noticed the cloaked figure standing a stone's throw away from Hedon's mount. With its face obscured and body shrouded in formless clothing, Edda couldn't quite make out the features or gender of this additional soul. She wondered if this was one of the wild folk that were said to inhabit the White Mountains in the North. The figure was dressed head to toe in various furs with dark leggings covering its thin legs. A sword was at its hip, and it had a large, leather satchel slung over its shoulder. With crossed arms and a stiff posture, it seemed to Edda that this person was not entirely happy to be here, and she wondered who this was that begrudgingly followed her brother home.

"Cadoc," Edda queried as she nodded to the strange individual, "who is this?" Edda quietly noted Hedon's sudden discomfort as the small figure stepped forward, obviously avoiding the horse that began to stamp and chomp at its bit anxiously. Cadoc took a few limping steps back and gently urged the reluctant individual forward.

"This," Cadoc said, "is Rukhash, and she is responsible for saving my life. Rukhash," Cadoc continued, motioning to his sister and mother, "this is my sister, Edda, and my mother, Guthwen."

"Oh,  _Ruck-hash_ ," Guthwen said, stumbling over the strange syllables. "An odd name. Are you from the North?"

Rukhash snorted from beneath her hood. "Sorta," she said in a flat, gravely accent. Edda did not think she  _sounded_  like a northerner. She barely sounded like a  _woman_.

"She is an orc, ma'am," Hedon explained. Edda took a worried step back and wondered why the young ranger sounded so calm with an orc in their midst.

"However," Hedon added begrudgingly, "she has saved both your son's life...and my own. Odd for her breed, I'll admit, but noteworthy, nonetheless."

Edda appraised the small orcess standing in front of her brother. Rukhash did not seem eager to remove the hood obscuring her face **,**  and her whole bearing was stiff and uncomfortable. Edda had never seen an orc. She had been spared those horrors during the war. Now she found herself curious to see this tame one, despite the terrible things she had heard about the beasts of Mordor.

Edda took a cautious step forward and bowed her head amiably. "It is very nice to meet you...Rukhash is it?" The hood dipped affirmatively and Edda managed the most genuine smile she could muster in her unease.

"Well, it's certainly too cold to be standing out here," Guthwen said with a clap of her hands. "Why don't we all go in and have breakfast?"

"I am afraid I must decline," Hedon said with a raised hand. "I have pressing business two villages over and I would like to see it done as soon as possible."

"Of course," Guthwen said, bowing a little to the ranger. "Be well, Hedon, and send our regards to Nándra."

With a nod the massive ranger mounted his steed and rode off into the dissipating morning mist.

"Well," Cadoc said with a disarming smile, "I, for one, am starving." Edda noticed her brother squeeze the orcess comfortingly on the shoulder before limping towards the house, an animated, chattering Guthwen on his heels. Rukhash did not seem particularly inclined to move from her spot.

"You are more that welcome to breakfast as well," Edda said **,**  stooping over a bit to try and see the she-orc's face. With a final smile that she hoped was more pleasant than nervous, Edda turned and headed into the house. She heard quiet footfalls as the orcess followed behind.

Inside Guthwen was already ladling out bowls of oatmeal. Thinking a little something special was in order, Edda pulled a decent sized piece of smoked ham from the larder adjacent to the kitchen and went about slicing it up for frying. Cadoc's orc friend didn't seem very interested in the oats, but the second Edda put pork on the table, she saw the grey hood swivel in her direction.

Cadoc had called Rukhash to sit next to him, across from Edda, so the she-orc's shadowed face was almost visible under her hood. Edda could make out Rukhash's arresting yellow eyes as she stared intently at the plate of meat with the intensity of a starving mongrel.

"You can take off your hood," Edda said gently, annoyed that she could not make out the orcess's features. "No sense in letting it trouble you while you are trying to eat."

Rukhash glanced questioningly at Cadoc **,**  who shrugged. "It is up to you," he told her quietly.

Edda stared with an almost perverse fascination as Rukhash lifted her dark, clawed hands and pulled back her hood. The entire room seemed to still as the grey fur fell back to reveal the she-orc's face, and Edda was sure that her mother was just as interested in what the countenance of an orc looked like.

In the end, though, Edda felt as though she had been let down. A thousand disturbing visions had flitted through her mind at what would be under Rukhash's hood, but Edda was not prepared for the plain, dark skinned young female that looked back at her.

Rukhash's hair was black and dense, a little wavy and slicked with some sort of oil that made it look stringy. Her brow was heavy, but not brutish, and her large, slanted yellow eyes were all the more prominent against her black skin. Her blunt nose was broad with a little cleft in the middle that gave it an animalistic quality. Her teeth, which Edda admitted were her only truly disconcerting feature, were mostly hidden, but a sharp, jagged fang peeked out from beneath her lower lip. With the dark furs and leathers obscuring the rest of her figure, she seemed more androgynous than feminine, but Edda could not compare her to an orc male. For all she knew, Rukhash was the paradigm of orc femininity.

"Well," Edda broke the silence, "I must say I am quite disappointed."

Rukhash's brow furrowed in confusion as Edda piled some pork on to her waiting plate. From the corner of her eye, Edda could see Cadoc biting his cheek to keep from smiling.

"Honestly," Edda continued matter-of-factly, "I expected you to be uglier."

Rukhash opened and closed her mouth a few times before her brow drew down in annoyance. "Oi," the orcess barked, "what's 'at supposed to mean?"

"It means," Edda said pointedly, "that I expected you to be truly terrifying, with oozing skin or glowing eyes or something equally awful. You are a bit odd looking, but not exactly what I would call monstrous. I would imagine  _I_  am just as odd looking to  _you_."

Rukhash regarded Edda thoughtfully before turning to Cadoc. "I like your sis," the she-orc said simply before tearing into her plate.

Cadoc glanced at Rukhash as she shoveled food into her mouth like she was starving and back at his sister. He mouthed the words 'thank you' and Edda realized this meeting must have been a true cause for concern on Rukhash's part. Despite all she had heard about orcs, Edda was prepared to give this young orcess all the respect a guest would deserve. After all, Rukhash had saved Cadoc's life and Cadoc trusted her enough to bring her here. That was all the convincing Edda needed.

A long, thin whine echoed through the house and Edda rose to her feet. "Oh," she clucked, "that's Hallas. Ma, would you wake Morwen? She's slept late enough." Edda rushed out of the kitchen and through the hallway. Guthwen rose from the head of the table where she was quietly eating her meal and delicately wiped her mouth on a napkin.

"I told you it wouldn't go poorly," Cadoc told Rukhash once the room had cleared. The orcess swallowed the last large chunk of pork and leaned back in her chair. Sighing contently, she glanced in Cadoc's direction.

"Yer family's mighty hospitable," she agreed. "But that don't mean I'm stayin **'.**  Sure to wear out a welcome that way."

"I hoped you would at least consider it," Cadoc replied. "The thought of you alone on that mountain worries me."

"Ain't nothin' to worry about," Rukhash argued, poking at her untouched oatmeal. "Been up there longer 'n I known you. Always made out fine on my own."

Cadoc released a quiet breath through his nose. "I am concerned something will happen to you."

Rukhash rolled her eyes and took a tentative lick at the oatmeal on her claw. She wrinkled her nose, bristling. "Nothin's happenin' to me," she said finally.

"You will not be lonely here," the ranger argued. Rukhash glared at him. "Will you at least stay the night?" Cadoc sighed. "You have a long journey back."

"I'll think about it," Rukhash grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Oh, you must stay," Edda pleaded as she entered the room carrying a little bundle in her arms. "You still have to tell us how you've come to save my brother, and we will have a big supper tonight in honor of his safe return. You  _must_  stay for that."

Rukhash blinked a little, bewildered. " _Gar_ ," she grumbled, "you're a pushy lot."

Edda laughed lightly and shifted her arms revealing her infant son. She rocked the baby gently against her shoulder as he sucked on a chubby fist. Despite herself, Rukhash found herself leaning towards the tiny human.

"Look at the little blighter," the orcess cooed. The baby regarded her with wide, hazel eyes. Out of old habit, Rukhash made a little purring noise in the back of her throat, and Hallas rewarded her with a gummy smile. "How old is 'e then?" the orcess asked, still staring at the baby.

"Hallas is three months this week," Edda said proudly as she rubbed small circles on her son's back. Cadoc smiled at his new nephew and regarded Rukhash's entranced expression with a heavy heart.  _I imagine she was a fine mother,_  he thought sadly as the she-orc trilled and warbled and purred in an attempt to make Hallas smile.

"I think he likes the noises you're making," Edda said and shifted her son so he could face Rukhash. Hallas waved a chubby fist at the orcess, and Rukhash favored him with a throaty, lilting thrum that made him laugh.

"Little orclings like 'em too," Rukhash said as she reached across and brushed her knuckles against Hallas's soft, pudgy hands. Edda breathed a quiet sigh of relief that the she-orc was being so cautious with her claws. She did not wish to ruin the moment by pulling Hallas away.

"Do you have any children?" Edda said lightly, causing Cadoc to loudly clear his throat.

Rukhash leaned back with a contemplative smile. " _Nar_ ," she said quietly. "Ain't got none myself." Edda noticed Cadoc subtly shaking his head as he took a long sip from his teacup and Edda fumbled in her brain for a change of subject.

Fortunately, Cadoc's sister was saved by the appearance of her eldest. Morwen stormed into the kitchen, saw her uncle at the table and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck as he slurped his tea.

"Uncle Cadoc!" the teenage girl crowed, and Rukhash flattened her ears against her skull.

"Morwen," Cadoc acknowledged as he gently pried her off of him. "You become more and more a woman every time I see you."

Morwen beamed and shoved his arm lightly. Then, her attention was set on Rukhash. "Gran wasn't joking," the girl said, awed, as she rounded the table and came to stand next to her mother. Rukhash shifted uncomfortably under her wide eyed, singular stare. "Wow," Morwen breathed, "an  _actual_  orc. Look at its eyes. Oh, and its skin is really black, just like the stories."

"Now Morwen," Guthwen chided as she entered. "Don't be so rude. Rukhash is our guest, and she's saved you uncle's life. Show a little dignity."

Morwen flopped into an empty chair, but didn't bother to reach for her breakfast. " _Rook-ish_ ," the girl echoed. "That's a real orc's name!"

"Rukhash," the orcess growled, "it's  _Rukh-ash_. Not rook or ruck.  _Rukh."_

The young girl looked affronted for a moment before gathering herself and turning her nose in the air. "Well, I don't see what difference it makes," Morwen said in a haughty tone as she picked daintily at her oatmeal. "It all sounds like rude noises to me."

_"_ How'd you like I call you  _Marvin_ , eh?" Rukhash scowled and crossed her arms. "Think I will, 'til you can bother to get it right. It's nice to meet you,  _Marvin_."

"Uncle Cadoc," Morwen whined, "tell it to stop."

"Rukhash is her own person," Cadoc shrugged, deciding, for the sake of a peaceful life, to stay out of this particular battle of wills. Teenage girls had never been his forte. Morwen was very much like her mother at that age, and Cadoc remembered many heated, emotional arguments with his sister when she was a girl.

"Rukhash is not very hard to say," Edda interjected in a light tone.

"Mom!" Morwen huffed incredulously **,**  looking betrayed. "Well," the girl said standing, her expression indignant, "I'm not going to sit here while everyone yells at me."

"Then see to the milking," Edda said in an almost sing song voice as she adjusted Hallas for nursing.

Casting a dangerous glare in her mother's direction, Morwen turned and stomped towards the far corner near the door. In a whirl of dark fabric, she grabbed the milking bucket and tied back her wavy, dark hair with sharp, violent tugs. "Fine!" she snapped and stormed outside.

"Oh, that age!" Guthwen sighed, rubbing her temples.

Glancing towards the bemused expression of their guest, Edda gave the orcess a contrite smile. "I'm very sorry, Rukhash," Edda apologized, hoping her daughter's behavior did not offend the young she orc. "She is really a fine young woman."

"Hn," the orcess grunted with a careless shrug. "Least she didn't bite me in the face."

"I beg your pardon?" Edda said, covering her mouth. Hallas sucked greedily under his wet cloth.

"When I were round that age, maybe a bit younger," Rukhash said, not noticing the paling complexion of her hostesses, "bit my sis clear in the face for pissin' me off. Don't even remember what she said any more..."

"My goodness," Guthwen breathed and cast a startled look at her daughter.

"Botarg got me back," Rukhash assured them, noting their troubled expressions. "Threw me in the warg pit and I got roughed up proper 'fore I managed to climb out." Edda and Guthwen gaped at their guest, and Rukhash backpedaled in an attempt to clear things up. "I were fine afterward," the orcess said, "and so were she. We both had a long laugh about it."

You could hear a pin drop in the mute shock that followed. Cadoc sipped his tea thoughtfully while Hallas sucked messily under the cloth covering Edda's breast. In the end, Cadoc could not expect Rukhash to be anyone else but Rukhash. The ranger excepted her upbringing was startlingly different from his own. Cadoc had not heard this particular story, but it did not phase him in the slightest. Though, he could understand the concern on his mother and sister's faces.

"Well," Cadoc said, breaking the shocked silence. "I don't know about Rukhash, but I could really use a bath."


	10. An Unexpected Guest

**Splint**

**Chapter10: An Unexpected Guest**

* * *

Rukhash was not in the habit of making broad assumptions, but there was one thing she was positively sure of: Cadoc's sister was  _loaded_. Edda's entire house would have been an orc raider's wet dream.

Leaning back in a plush armchair near the fire in Edda's sitting room, Rukhash considered the knotty, intricate carving on the mantle. It was completely frivolous. Almost as frivolous as a room just for washing, or two rooms for sitting, or separate bedrooms for each person, or spending an entire day making a meal that would be eaten in the span of an hour. That was where the bulk of Cadoc's family, including Cadoc, were situated at the moment. Banging around in the kitchen, chopping and peeling, and generally making a lot of fuss. Cadoc seemed pleased enough to set himself in the middle of it, entertaining Hallas and grinning like a content idiot.

Rukhash frowned a little and plucked her sleeves, trying in vain to pull them down over her wrists. After Cadoc had his wash, Edda insisted on a bath for the orcess as well, and now Rukhash sat in a borrowed wool dress, scrubbed cleaner than she ever remembered being. She felt a little off, standing in the kitchen while Cadoc's sister and mother and niece bustled about, making themselves useful. So, Rukhash retreated to one of Edda's two sitting rooms and made herself comfortable by the fire.

A fat, orange tomcat that Rukhash noticed milling around the house earlier seemed to share her state of mind. He was curled up on the rope rug in front of the fire, purring steadily. The tomcat's audible contentment was beginning to lull Rukhash to sleep. If she closed her eyes, Rukash found the cat's purr to be very similar to the comforting rumble her mother would make when she was very small...

* * *

It was a surreal moment for Cadoc, being back in civilization after so long a stay in the wilderness. His mother chattered steadily as she basted a large roast over the fire while Morwen grumbled over the potatoes she was peeling in true teenage fashion. Rukhash's cave seemed like a distant dream in the midst of such a familiar setting.

Edda had gone to her bedroom to change Hallas, and now she returned with a thoughtful smile. She leaned in towards Cadoc. As she passed Hallas off to him, she whispered in his ear. "Your friend is asleep," she said with no small amount of amusement.

Cadoc had no doubt that the thought of an orc guest was a great source of mirth to Edda. His sister had never been the most conventional, and she most likely welcomed the gossip such an event would bring among the well-to-do women her husband's good fortune forced her to socialize with.

"I would imagine she is a little overwhelmed," Cadoc said thoughtfully. "She was very concerned you would catch a fright at the sight of her."

"Oh, pish," Guthwen chided. "She's nothing like those creatures your father told me about, or those horrid stories the refugees from Rohan would tell us; even if she did put up a fuss about my washing her hair."

"Poor little thing," Guthwen sighed sympathetically. "You should see the ghastly scars on her."

Cadoc had seen Rukhash's scars before. Mindful of his discomfort, the orcess faced away from him when she took her baths in the cave. That didn't stop him from catching sight of her ruined back; marred by winding, silver scars and small raised marks that bore a distinctive tooth pattern.

"Heaven knows how she got them," Edda whispered. "If orcs are prone to throwing their children in  _warg pits_ , I'm surprised she doesn't have more."

"I think that is taking her story a bit out of context, sister," Cadoc sighed.

Edda sat at the long oak table in the kitchen as she bounced Hallas on her knee, and considered her brother thoughtfully. "Why didn't you want me to bring up children around her?" Edda asked, leaning towards him conspiratorially.

Cadoc laced his fingers on the table in front of him and sat forward. He was very sure Rukhash's ears must be burning in the other room. "It's a touchy subject, Edda," he said quietly. "One that is better left unmentioned, I think, unless she wants to bring it up." Edda was staring at him expectantly. Glancing at his mother and niece, he realized they sported similar expressions.

"Cadoc," Edda grumbled when he didn't elaborate. "You  _can't_  leave it at  _that_."

"Did she  _eat_  hers?" Morwen joked with a devilish grin.

Edda glared at her eldest, but her mouth was turned up in an amused smirk. "Morwen, that is  _horrible_."

"Well," Morwen snickered, "that  _is_  what orcs do, isn't it?"

Cadoc hoped desperately that Rukhash was deep asleep and couldn't hear them. He fixed his niece with a reproving glare and informed her, "Her children are dead, Morwen." He watched as Morwen's face fell into an unhappy frown. "They were slain by orc hunters five years gone." With a horrified look, Morwen quietly bit her lip and went back to peeling potatoes, her neck bright red.

"Oh," Guthwen cried, tapping her fist to her chest, "how horrible."

"Just leave it be, mother," Cadoc said with a placating gesture.

Guthwen nodded sagely as she balled a washcloth in her hands. "I would never!" she said. "Who would want to be reminded of such a terrible thing?"

Cadoc turned towards his sister, his voice low. "Does it make you feel better to know it?"

Edda set her son over her shoulder, gently rubbing circles on his back, and shook her head. "Of course it doesn't," she whispered.

"It was not my place to tell anyone," Cadoc admitted. "If Rukhash was aware that you knew... Well, I am not sure how she would feel about it."

"Cadoc," Edda huffed, "I swear I will say nothing!" She glanced over to her mother and daughter and they bobbed their heads in agreement. "No one will say anything about it. I promise."

"So, how long is she staying?" Morwen asked from her place by the stove.

Cadoc swallowed thickly. He had not brought this up yet with Edda, but he hoped his sister would help him persuade the orcess to stay. Cadoc could not explain why he felt so adamantly about it, but the thought of Rukhash leaving troubled him. He had begun to enjoy her company, and he wasn't quite ready to see her go yet. Besides, the thought of her facing yet another lonely winter brought a sick feeling to his gut. She had endured the rigors of solitude long enough.

 _There is no time like the present to ask_ , Cadoc thought.

Edda watched the play of anxious emotion on her brother's face with a knowing frown. There were times that she could read Cadoc like an open book. "You want her to stay, don't you?" Edda guessed with a touch of worry in her voice.

"I am concerned for her to remain on that mountain by herself, but I could not think of the best way to ask," Cadoc said, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully.

Since his divorce, Cadoc had spent the better part of his time in the wilds, only stopping to rest at his sister's in the winter. The home he built for Ingrid had remained with her. In essence, Cadoc was homeless. He had never thought to build another house, some lonely cabin in the middle of the woods. Not when Edda insisted he stay in her old home, the small cottage on the grounds that she and Elador lived in until their farm's success afforded them a larger, more luxurious home. If Rukhash was going to stay, it would be by Edda and Elador's leave.

"She can't stay here!" Morwen cried, and Edda turned sharply to glare at her daughter.

"Morwen!  _Hush_ ," Edda chided.

"There are two bedrooms in the cottage," Cadoc supplied. "You lived there with Elador and Morwen and Wulf until this fine house was built, so I'm sure there will be enough room for the two of us."

Edda bit her lip as she switched Hallas onto her other shoulder. "I'm not worried about  _space_ , Cadoc," she said. "There are many refugees from the War that have settled in the village. I'm not sure how kindly they will think of your friend."

"Besides, she doesn't like me," Morwen cut in. "She keeps calling me Marvin." Cadoc chuckled and Morwen's expression grew dark. "It isn't  _funny_ , Uncle Cadoc!"

"I think you two just got off on the wrong foot," Cadoc said with a smile.

"I will have to ask Elador," Edda interjected, steering the conversation back on track. "I'm not sure it would be best for her, though, Cadoc. The War is many years in the past, but there are still many wounds not healed. I fear that Rukhash would be the focus of much animosity."

"I realize that, sister," Cadoc said, taking Edda's hand in his own and squeezing it lightly, "but she has my good word and Hedon's. Who would argue if we spoke on her behalf? And she would not be here permanently. If they are alive, her surviving family would have settled in Mordor. I have promised to see her safely there when my leg is healed. So, really, she would only be here for a few months. "

Edda could think of quite a few people that might protest an orc in their midst, even if it was only temporary and despite the confidence of two Rangers. She smiled weakly anyway, and squeezed Cadoc's hand in turn.

"I will ask Elador," she assured him.

"Speak of the devil," Guthwen said as she peered out the dark window. "It looks like your husband is home, Eddawen."

"Oh!" Edda exclaimed and stood abruptly, passing Hallas off to Morwen.

Smoothing her skirts, Edda reached the front door in three quick strides and opened it just as her husband was ready to turn the knob himself. Elador seemed surprised to see his wife standing so suddenly before him. "Good evening," he said with a bemused expression.

Edda looked as though she might burst with joy. She took Elador by the forearm and pulled him into the kitchen. "Look who we found today," she said brightly.

Elador stood for several long, astonished seconds staring at his brother-in-law. Cadoc took the opportunity to awkwardly rise to his feet, tucking his crutch underneath his arm. Elador was a tall, lean man, with large course hands and a weathered complexion that spoke to a lifetime spent working outdoors. He was a generally serious man, occasionally prone to bouts of levity, but for the most part his manner was dry and a little on the grim side. Cadoc and Hedon had given him quite the time of it when he was courting Edda. Elador always seemed like an odd match for bright, fiery Edda, but Cadoc thought they made a good counterpoint to one another.

"Cadoc!" Elador exclaimed suddenly as he stepped forward with outstretched arms and embraced Cadoc. A little surprised by the uncharacteristic show of affection, Cadoc gave his brother-in-law a few terse pats on the back, reminding himself that, as far as Elador was concerned, he had just returned from the grave.

"It is good to see you, brother," Cadoc said as Elador stepped back to appraise his condition.

"We thought you dead," Elador proclaimed. "What happened? How have you come by this injury?" Elador nodded towards the splint on Cadoc's leg.

"That," Cadoc said with a grunt as he took his seat, "is a lengthy story better saved for dinner."

Edda noted the absence of her son. "Where is Wulf?"

"He's seeing to the horses," Elador explained. "He'll be in shortly. Come now!" Elador's attention was again on Cadoc. "Why be so mysterious?"

"I am not being  _mysterious_ ," Cadoc laughed. "Wîdfara stumbled on the mountain path on our return journey, and I was thrown when he fell."

"That old nag," Elador groused. "You should have traded him in for a proper horse years ago."

"He and I have ridden together since The War, Elador," Cadoc said sternly. "In any case, that is how I broke my leg."

"What happened to Wîdfara?" Morwen asked. She had always liked her Uncle Cadoc's horse. She used to sneak him dried apples from the pantry.

"He...was killed by wolves." Cadoc swallowed roughly. He did not wish to elaborate more than that. His niece was already wide eyed and miserable looking. Wîdfara was old, but a loyal steed. It was a shame that he had met such a gruesome end.

"And the wolves let you be?" Elador asked, doubtful.

"Not exactly," Cadoc replied, and realized Edda and Guthwen had stopped cooking to stare at him expectantly. "I would be dead now as well, if Rukhash had not driven them off."

"You didn't say she fought  _wolves_  off of you," Guthwen said, sounding impressed.

"She saved Hedon from a pack as well," Cadoc explained. "It would appear that their number has increased significantly in the mountains. I suppose she has become very good at quarreling with them, considering she has been living on that mountain alone for so long."

"Come now," Elador said in disbelief. "Are you saying you were saved by a woman living up in the mountains? I find that a little hard to swallow."

"It's true," Morwen said matter-of-factly. "She's sleeping in the sitting room right now, but I don't think she's very nice."

Elador raised an eyebrow at his daughter and turned a rue smile on Cadoc. "You brought her  _home_ ," he laughed, giving Cadoc a heavy thump on the shoulder. "You old dog!"

Cadoc cleared his throat uncomfortably and cast a pointed look in his sister's direction. Edda shrugged, looking lost for words. In truth, he could think of no way to tell Elador about Rukhash without being blunt, but Edda's husband did not posses her easy stride.

"Why the long face?" Elador asked, noting Cadoc's expression. "Have I got it wrong?" Elador leaned in and whispered, "Is she terribly homely?"

Cadoc chuckled. "I suppose that is a matter of opinion." He decided there was no sense in dragging it out. "She's an orc, Elador."

"An orc," Elador parroted gravely. Cadoc nodded. "And you say she is in the sitting room?" Again, Cadoc nodded and his brother-in-law stood abruptly, a concerned look on his face.

Elador strode purposefully from the kitchen, to the dining room and came to stand at the door of the reading room, where he had a direct view of the sitting room. Sure enough, curled up on his large chair was a black skinned creature. She was clothed in a simple gray dress that fit her awkwardly in the arms, but she otherwise filled out. The low neckline gave Elador a clear view of a horizontal scar that traced across her breastbone, as if someone had tried to cleave her chest open. The orcess's face was slack as she slept. Her relaxed countenance combined with her common clothing gave her a domestic appearance, despite her more beastly features.

The sound of soft footfalls alerted Elador to Edda's presence. She came to stand beside her husband as he regarded their unorthodox visitor. "I have never seen one in the flesh before," Elador whispered to his wife.

Elador was a young man, newly married during The War. He had never trained to fight, so when the call came for warriors, he chose to remain in his home village and serve his country in a more benign role. Warfare called for a massive amount of raw material as well as soldiers, and much of Elador's current success could be traced to his steady supplying of much needed food and leather to the troops and larger cities. Because The Enemy had not invaded this particular, out-of-the way section of Gondor, Elador had been spared the treacherous task of fighting the orc soldiers of the Black Army.

"Her speech is a bit coarse," Edda whispered back, and, concerned that they may wake Rukhash, began to lead her husband back into the kitchen, "but she seems quite friendly."

"Morwen doesn't seem to care for her," Elador said, stopping them in the dining room.

Edda traced her fingers against the shining finish of the oak table and sighed. "I think Morwen is being a bit sensitive," she replied finally. "Rukhash was just teasing her, but she wasn't being malicious. She saved Cadoc's life, Elador, and he spent the better part of two months with her. I don't think my brother would have brought her here if he thought she was dangerous."

Elador nodded and took Edda's hand in his own to stop her nervous fidgeting. "You know I trust your brother's judgement," he said. "But I will admit that I find her a little disconcerting, despite her docile appearance."

* * *

_"Don't be such a coward," Bogdish whispered sharply as he glared at his sister, his yellow eyes flashing. Rukhash glared back defiantly and bared her teeth._

_They were standing in a long, stone hallway in front of a heavy metal door. The jagged edges of the wall glinted in the low light of the tunnels under Orthanc. Bogdish stood over Rukhash menacingly, but she wasn't in the habit of backing down._

_"Fuck off," she barked, shoving him in the shoulder. "If you want in so bad, why don't you go climbin' through those nasty holes yerself?" Bogdish, who was only older by her than a year, but already twice her size, lifted her up by the scruff of her neck._

_"'Cuz I ain't no weaselly little Rat like you!" has said, giving her a shake. Rukhash kicked hard at his midsection and found purchase. Bogdish dropped her suddenly and grabbed his middle._

_"Sha! Don't call me that!" she hissed, and turned to leave him there._

_"Come on, sis!" Bogdish wheedled. "You know I can't climb good as you. No one'll catch us. They're all up top runnin' drills. We'll be in an' out real quick-like!"_

_Rukhash normally wouldn't fall for such obvious flattery, but her climbing ability was a small source of pride. Uruk hai were too large and heavy to be very good at climbing, and they avoided it whenever possible. Being half-goblin meant Rukhash was much smaller than her siblings, but she was also more dexterous, and could squeeze into spots and climb through places that they couldn't. It was how she earned the nickname 'Rat,' and though she hated the name, she realized it displayed her kin's acknowledgement of her unique skill._

_Unfortunately, that skill found her in precarious situations like this one. Bogdish wanted to rob the meat larder, a large room full of carcasses from the raids. The door to the larder was always locked, waiting for the higher ups to come and ration out the portions according to rank and status. Rukhash, in one of her many forays through the tunnels, had happened upon a tiny crack in the ceiling that she could squeeze through. Of course, once Bogdish found out she discovered a sneak-around into the larder, he wanted her to help him break in. If they were caught, they would be in big trouble. Not a scolding from their mum trouble; or a beating from Kragolnauk trouble;_ dead _trouble. If a guard found them in here they would have their throats slit, no questions asked._

_Bogdish seemed certain that they could pull it off, though. He was already dragging her by the arm towards the wall. Rukhash peered up at the dark sliver at the angle of the wall and the ceiling, frowning thoughtfully._

_"So long as we're quick," she said uncertainly as Bogdish gave her a boost up onto the wall._

_"Course we'll be," was his matter-of-fact reply. "We'll make the grab and be out 'fore anyone knows better."_

_Swallowing thickly, Rukhash picked her way up towards the high ceiling easily. Flattening herself as much as possible, she squeezed her way into the narrow crevice between the wall and the ceiling. In another year or two, she probably would not be able to fit. As it was, she could narrowly breathe as she wriggled along. She strained her ears, listening for Bogdish, who promised to give a holler if someone happened along. After several, tense minutes, she worked her way through the opening and jumped down to the floor on the other side of the door. With a steadying breath, she reached up and undid the bolt lock. Bogdish was grinning ear to ear on the other side._

_"Gar, there's a girl," he said, clamping his hand on her shoulder companionably, and Rukhash felt a little thrill of accomplishment. They were in it together now, and the young orcess couldn't help the excitement she now felt thrumming through her._

_The meat larder was a sight to behold, and for a long minute the young pair of Uruks stood, side by side, staring in hushed wonder. Carcasses dangling from large metal hooks swayed gently in the drafty room, making a gentle tinkling sound. It seemed to go on forever, endless rows of livestock and horses, and all around them was the savory smell of ripening meat. Rukhash smacked her lips together. She and Bogdish exchanged an impish look before striding into the forest of endless flesh._

_Rukhash would have taken her time with such a bountiful harvest if not for the real threat that they faced if discovered. She settled on a large calf, and pulled her curved knife from her boot. Bogdish, meanwhile, had wandered off in another direction. She hoped he was taking his cut and being quick about it. She certainly didn't plan on waiting around for him. She was in the middle of severing the calf's leg at the joint when Bogdish started shouting for her._

_"Rukhash!" she heard him exclaim from deeper in the massive room. "Come here, quick!" Abandoning her prize, Rukhash rushed in the direction that she heard Bogdish's voice. She hoped he wasn't pulling a trick on her. They really didn't have that luxury at the moment._

_A hand reached out from in between two large cows and snatched her into the adjacent row. Rukhash gave a loud yelp as she tripped sideways. Looking up, she realized it was Bogdish who grabbed her. She growled a little in her throat, but realized his attention was elsewhere._

_"Look," he said with hushed awe, pointing towards the row behind her. Rukhash turned and found herself staring into the face of a pale, human man. He was stripped and hung from a thick rope that bound his feet. The man's arms hung loosely to the ground and he stared with cloudy, blue eyes back at Rukhash. The young orcess realized there were several dozen rows of light haired corpses, all hanging from the ceiling by their ankles._

_"Man-flesh," Rukhash purred, grinning wildly._

_It was a rare occasion that Uruk children were given man-flesh to eat. That treat was reserved for captains or soldiers or high ranking pitmasters. Rukhash had only tasted it once after a particularly large raid, but there was something about it that left her lusting for more. In all actuality, the flesh of men did not taste all that different from the flesh of any other animal, but she burned for it as ardently as any Uruk hai or orc._

_Bogdish went strait for the man in front of them, pulling his knife and peeling strips from the torso in long, neat lines. Rukhash headed into the next row, where she came face to face with a human girl-child that looked to be of her same stature._

_The girl's stomach had been cleaved open and her whole body was covered in dark, drying blood. Rukhash considered her human counterpart and reached up to sever the child's arm. After all, Rukhash's nan always boasted that the younger ones were the softest._

_As she went about her gruesome task, the young orcess became aware of quiet murmuring somewhere in the distance. The sound of Bogdish contently chewing his bounty had gone silent, and all the fine hairs on Rukhash's neck began to stand on end._

_"Bogdish?" she whispered into the echoing room. Somehow, the dim light seemed to have gone dimmer, and Rukhash could barely see more than a few feet in front of her. This was especially odd, considering her night vision had always been superior to her full-blooded siblings._

_"You shouldn't do that," said a familiar, clipped voice, though the young orcess couldn't place why she recognized it. Rukhash whirled around to find its source. The only thing behind her was the limp corpse of a blonde woman, her eyes closed in death. Rukhash scowled and hurried to finish carving off the arm of the child._

_"You're going to get into trouble," the voice warned as the arm snapped free from the child's body. Rukhash glared over at the woman's corpse, only to find, though glazed in death, her eyes were now open and staring strait back._

_Rukhash squealed in horrified shock and stumbled backwards into the row of corpses behind her. The bodies jangled on their metal chains, and Rukhash became aware of a steady crackling sound, like a large fire was burning very close._

_Gasping, the young orcess struggled to stand, but felt weighted down, as though a dozen, invisible hands were holding her to the spot. The sensation of a dry, blunt finger brushed across her ear, and Rukhash yowled in fear._

* * *

Rukhash's heart was thundering. Standing in front of her was a young boy. He had snatched his hand to his chest and was staring at her with wide, gray eyes. Blinking the sleep away, the orcess took a deep breath and relaxed against the chair, remembering where she was. Morwen was standing a few paces behind the boy, staring at Rukhash with a bemused expression.

"Bleedin' eye!" Rukhash barked. "What're you pokin' me in my sleep for?"

A tall man rushed into the room behind Morwen and reached forward to pull the boy away from the orcess. He had a panicked look on his face. Rukhash realized that this must be Edda's husband, and the boy was another one of her children. The man gave the boy a once over, making sure he wasn't hurt, and turned his attention back to Rukhash.

"You made quite a noise," the man explained before turning towards his son. "You should apologize for startling her, Wulf."

"Sorry miss orc," Wulf said in a small voice. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Rukhash blinked owlishly at that. " _Gar_ ," she scoffed, "weren't  _frightened_. Put me off is all. Don't you know the old sayin'?  _Let sleepin' orcs lie._ "

Edda's husband smiled at that and ruffled his son's hair. "Well," the man said, "now you've met Wulf, and I am Elador, Eddawen's husband."

Rukhash regarded the man thoughtfully and nodded. "Figured as much," she rumbled. "I'm Rukhash."

"I know," Elador replied. "Supper is almost ready, if you care to join us." Elador led Wulf to the dining room. Morwen gave Rukhash a knowing look and followed her father and brother out of the room.

Gathering her wits, Rukhash rose and absently smoothed the front of her dress. So far, she had managed not to muck up meeting Cadoc's family. All she had to do was make it through a meal without saying something particularly stupid, and she would be on her way in the morning. At the very least, she wanted to leave knowing Cadoc would keep his promise to her. That would be something to look forward to, even if she had to face the long, dark winter alone.


	11. Doors

**Splint**

**Chapter 11: Doors**

* * *

A  _tark_  meal consisted of more food than Rukhash had ever seen in one place. The orcess stood for several, astonished minutes in the dining room threshold, gawking at the formidable feast that accumulated while she slept. Edda's long, polished table was piled with a variety of steaming dishes, most of which Rukhash wouldn't dare to identify. The large, beef roast was her main source of interest, but that was flanked on all sides by bowls and plates filled with potatoes and buttery vegetables and spiced fruit and warm, fresh bread.

_At least,_  she thought to herself as her hosts took their seats,  _all that racket were for somethin'._

Rukhash padded around the table to an empty chair next to Cadoc, as far away from the rest of his family as she could manage. Never mind the utensils and cloth napkins and fine, china bowls; the table alone was enough to put her ill at ease. The orcess felt as though she were at a lord's banquet, not sitting down for a family meal.

She had never eaten in such a formal setting and was completely intimidated by the calm, sure manner of the people around her. Unsure of the best course of action, Rukhash decided it would be best to best to mimic their behavior. When Morwen placed her napkin on her lap, Rukhash followed suit. Soon, they began ladling up and passing around plates of food. Cadoc handed a dish to her, and Rukhash held it mid air for several long seconds, looking for someone to hand it to. Everyone else seemed to have a plate in front of them.

Leaning towards her, Cadoc helpfully whispered, "That is yours."

The orcess dropped the plate in front of her and stared balefully at the several utensils at her setting: two different spoons, three different forks and a serrated knife. Unnerved by this now obstacle, her eyes darted around the table anxiously before she caught sight of Guthwen using her knife and largest fork to cut the roast in her plate into tiny morsels. Grabbing her own cutlery, Rukhash set her fork and knife to the meat.

It was the most frustrating exercise she had ever embarked on. The beef kept slipping out from under the fork and sliding to the edge of her plate, nearly knocking the small, roasted potatoes onto the table. Catching a growl before it could become audible, Rukhash finally managed to pin the meat down and saw it into two, tidy halves. After a quiet, pleased moment, she stuffed one half into her mouth. How Men didn't starve to death eating this way was a miracle. As she chewed, she glanced sideways and caught Cadoc watching her with an amused smile.

"Wot?" she challenged. Her cheek puffed out comically even as her brows furrowed in annoyance. Cadoc shook his head, still grinning, and turned his attention towards his own meal. Rukhash continued chewing as she glared at him suspiciously.

"Now that we're all together," Elador said judiciously as he sipped the wine in front of him, "why don't you tell us the whole tale of your rescue, Cadoc?"

"I thought we've been through it all already," Cadoc said.

"I haven't heard anything!" exclaimed Wulf from his seat next to Elador. "Father had me stabling the horses when you told  _him_  the story."

Edda bit her lip and raised her own glass towards her brother. "Come now, Cadoc," she said with a smile, "tell us the whole story."

Rukhash sat in quiet wonder as Cadoc rested his fork on the table and recounted the events that led to his stay in her mountain cave. To hear him tell it, you would think she swooped down, fought off a Balrog and magicked his wounds healed. She was grateful that her dark complexion hid her blush. In all honesty, she never realized he held her in such high esteem. Though, Rukhash was relieved he omitted their more private conversations about her kin.

Cadoc's family kept giving her awestruck, grateful looks, which made her feel like slinking under the table. Rukhash's reason for saving Cadoc had been fundamentally selfish, and she didn't feel particularly deserving of the benevolent regard that Cadoc and his doe eyed relations seemed to have for her.

"Why were you up that mountain in the first place?" Morwen asked the orcess, though the girl's tone held more curiosity than the brusque manner she had displayed since the orcess arrived. Feeling awkward now that the attention of the room was placed on her, Rukhash focused on her plate and poked absently at the spiced apples.

"Just ended up there," Rukhash mumbled. "Sorta wandered fer a while 'fore I found that cave. It seemed outta the way enough 'at no one would bugger me." Rukhash didn't particularly feel like bearing her soul to Cadoc's relatives. They seemed like a nice enough lot, but the painful memory of her loss wasn't any of their business.

Cadoc frowned. Ever since they arrived at his sister's, Rukhash's demeanor had become more and more withdrawn, and he wondered what was bothering her. He thought that she would be pleased that they were taking her presence in stride.

Perhaps sensing the strain on their guest, Edda steered the general conversation towards more innocuous topics, like the summer harvest and the farm's unusual productivity that year. Cadoc smiled and nodded and joined the conversation where he could. Rukhash did her best to make herself invisible beside him, and Cadoc could not ignore the heavy weight of her brooding silence. A part of him hoped dinner would be finished in short order, so he could discover the reason for her sudden withdrawal.

Soon the fine meal Edda and Guthwen spent most of the day preparing was reduced to half emptied plates and a few crumbs. Elador retreated into the kitchen to smoke his pipe, while Edda hurried to the nursery to feed Hallas. Guthwen and Morwen began clearing the table, all the while prattling to Cadoc about the winter festival, now just a few weeks away.

"They said that this year they will have to add more tents to accommodate all of the festivities," Guthwen said, sounding impressed by her own news.

"Mother promised I can have a new dress for it," Morwen chirped cheerfully as she carried a stack of dirty plates past her uncle.

"That  _is_  exciting," Cadoc humored her, and she smiled before disappearing into the kitchen. He turned to Rukhash, who remained silent and slumped in her chair, looking particularly gloomy. The Ranger laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Rukhash shrugged him off with an annoyed growl. "Don't got much to say," she replied curtly, and averted her eyes to glare out the window.

The panes were frosted over with condensation, but Cadoc caught the subtle movement of white flakes outside. The ranger sighed and sat back in his chair, noting the animated conversation in the other room. "I have stayed with you for over a month, and that has never seemed to be the case," Cadoc teased once he was sure no one would overhear them.

Cadoc was taken aback when Rukhash favored him with a loathsome scowl that made the beastliness in her featured all the more prominent in the dim, gold candlelight. Her yellow eyes flashed with real anger. "Well, maybe you'll be happy with a little quiet, then," she growled and stood, stalking out of the room.

Troubled, Cadoc rose and checked to make sure the rest of his family was occupied in the kitchen. Elador, who drew his brows together in a concerned expression, noticing the exchange, but Cadoc gestured towards him to remain where he was and hobbled after the surly orcess. He found her in the empty sitting room.

Though, somewhat vexed by her behavior, Cadoc wanted to be understanding. He doubted she had spent any time around a family of mannish folk before, and considering she had been completely isolated for over four years, without even her own kind for company, he was not surprised by her discomfort. Summoning his patience, Cadoc shuffled forward and came to stand at her back.

The dress his sister loaned her fell just above her shoulders. The light gray stood in stark contrast to her black skin and hair, which glowed a deep amber in the flickering firelight. Her hair fell loose, and surprisingly, curly between her shoulder blades. Cadoc was struck with how  _civilized_ she looked, like something wild that had been caught and tamed. The Ranger frowned, not liking his train of thought.

"I wish I knew the reason for your sour mood," Cadoc whispered, and he noticed her ear tilt back, listening, though she made no move to face him. "I think my sister and her family have been more than hospitable towards you." Rukhash shifted her weight anxiously and said nothing. Cadoc made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat wishing, for once, she would not be so difficult.

Finally, the orcess heaved a great sigh and faced him. "I don't  _belong_  here," she said, and her expression was truly troubled. "Don't know why I let you talk me into coming 'ere in the first place."

"You are only saying that because you are not in your usual element," Cadoc reasoned.

She glowered at him, insulted. "What sorta  _element_  is that?" the orcess asked darkly, crossing her long arms across her chest.

He wondered if she was  _looking_  for a fight right now, or perhaps, and excuse to storm off. He answered her with quiet calm, "After a considerable amount of time in your own company, you are now in someone else's home surrounded by people you do not know. You are not in control of the situation here. Is that what is bothering you?"

Rukhash pouted, wrinkling her blunt nose. She wasn't sure she liked Cadoc's easy assessment of her feelings. "I guess," was her guarded reply. Rukhash turned her head and glared at the fireplace, trying to look anywhere besides his reproving expression.

"If you could bear to not being so judgmental, I think you might come to like my sister's family," Cadoc said evenly, his tone a little more stern. "They are good people, Rukhash." The orcess sighed, rolling her eyes to the heavens. Cadoc ground his teeth and decided not to scold her for acting so childish.

" _Skai_ ," she groused, noticing his scowl. "I never said they weren't nice folk. They've given me a fine welcome. It's just... " Rukhash worried her lip and looked at Cadoc miserably. "It don't feel right, me bein' 'ere. Men an' orcs, we ain't mean to mingle like this."

A little taken aback, Cadoc regarded her for a long minute. "Wasn't your grandfather a man?" he supplied.

Rukhash shrugged. "Nan always said he had an orc's black heart," the orcess said and the corners of her mouth turned up in a mysterious little smile. "None a the other Dunlending men stuck around with the orc girls they 'ad kids with. They took the gold Sharky gave 'em and buggered off, but not my granddad. He were always happier wit' orcs 'n he were wit' men."

Cadoc sighed and shook his head. He wasn't quite sure what he thought about that little tidbit of information, but he decided to use it to his advantage. "Perhaps, he discovered, once he became familiar with your folk, he actually liked them. Perhaps,  _you_  may discover that you like the race of Men more than you have previously thought, once you come to know some of them better."

" _Gar_ ," Rukhash rumbled and tilted her head towards him obligingly, "guess I like  _you_  well enough."

Cadoc's expression softened at her gruff admission. "Then, I hope it is not out of the question for you to give my sister's family a chance." Rukhash rolled her eyes at him again, but her posture was more relaxed, and Cadoc felt the darkness in her mood lifting.

"Guess it's just fair," she said.

* * *

As Morwen's high voice lifted in another ballad, Rukhash decided that this was easily the most painful experience that she had ever put herself through. It wasn't that the girl was a poor singer, her voice was fine enough, as far as the orcess could guess. Rather, it was the captive audience Rukhash found herself stuck in. After the dishes were cleared and washed, Edda had ushered the whole household into the sitting room, except for Hallas who had the good fortune of being put to bed. Now they sat in patient, quiet attention as Morwen warbled on and on and  _on_  about ancient kings and heroes of men long dead and buried.

This entertainment was Edda's idea. Cadoc's sister sat in the large chair next to her husband's, resting her chin gingerly on her knuckles and gazing at her eldest with smiling, soft eyed adoration. The woman was obviously proud of her daughter's singing, but Rukhash was near ready to gouge her ears out. She may have promised to give Cadoc's family a fair shake, but she still felt entitled to her opinion, and human recreation was  _boring_. The orcess sat cross legged on the rope rug next to Cadoc's smaller armchair, her hands folded in tolerant resolve on her lap. Edda had insisted on a seat for the orcess, but Rukhash politely refused. She was accustomed to sitting on the ground, and the rug near the fire was pleasantly warm, even if the entertainment was desperately uninteresting. Rukhash kept glancing up at Cadoc, hoping that he would give her some sign that this would end and end soon. He was useless to her, his own gaze fixed respectfully on his niece's performance.

When Morwen's voice trailed off, the room erupted in a round of awkward clapping, and Rukhash refrained from rolling her eyes. It wasn't that the orcess didn't like Edda's eldest. In many ways Morwen reminded Rukhash of her own headstrong, selfish youth. The whole affair was just so stuffy and proper. An orc clan would have broken into at _least_ one fistfight by now, if not a whole brawl, and by the end of the night several clan members would need stitches.

"That was lovely, Morwen," Edda cooed, leaning back in her chair with a pleased expression. Guthwen smiled from her rocking chair in the corner as she tended her knitting. Elador puffed thoughtfully on his pipe while Cadoc began packing his own bowl. Wulf was the only one who looked as bored as Rukhash felt. He sat on a stool near his father's knee, his head resting carelessly on his palm, and showed no care to hide his lack of enthusiasm. The boy's eyes darted briefly in Rukhash's direction and the orcess gave him a subtle nod of heartfelt solidarity.

"Let's have a story!" Wulf interjected before his mother could persuade his sister to begin another round of singing. The boy was staring adamantly at his uncle, who had always been a reliable source of stories in the past.

"What sort of story would you like?" asked Cadoc, smiling at his sister. Wulf often pestered Cadoc about his exploits during the war, and he imagined the boy wanted for another retelling of a battle tale. This time, he would be mindful to leave out the more ghastly descriptions of battle. Especially if those battles included orcs.

"A scary one," Morwen broke in insistently. She seemed just as eager to put off another song as her brother. "Tell us about the time you saw the Nazgul, Uncle Cadoc."

"That isn't much of a story," Cadoc laughed as his niece sat down on a low bench between her father's seat and the wall, daintily tucking her legs to the side. "I only saw it from a distance during battle, though the ghastly screaming of its winged mount put all of us ill at ease." From the corner of his eye, Cadoc noticed Rukhash's posture stiffen.

"Nazgul are  _not_  scary," Wulf interrupted his uncle matter-of-factly. "How scary can they be if a girl can kill them?"

"Mind yourself, Wulf," Elador said sternly, wagging the stem of his pipe at his son. "Lady Éowyn is hardly a 'girl'."

" _Sha_ ," Rukhash hissed Though it should have been impossible with her coloring, Cadoc swore she looked a little pale.

" _Nazgûl, Nazgûl_ ," Rukhash muttered, and the entire room turned to face their previously silent guest. Edda and Elador paled at the dreadful, effortless way he Black Speech rolled off her tongue. Fixing her intense yellow eyes on Wulf, the orcess shook her head reprovingly.

"Careful boy, how you speak a such things," she admonished in a low, menacing voice. "Them wraiths were plenty real, and  _plenty terrifying."_

"Why would you be afraid of them?" Morwen asked, noting the foreboding feeling that seemed to fill the room. "Weren't you all on the same side?"

"That didn't mean much to that lot," Rukhash said. "Used to feed orcs to their winged mounts, their Lordships did. Anyone who didn't follow orders, or failed them orders, or couldn't work...they was all torn to shreds!"

Rukhash leaned into the red circle of the firelight, her bright eyes flashing in her dark silhouette. "You want a scary story of them  _Nazgûl_?" she said dangerously. "Well,  _I_  have one for ya."

Cadoc realized the entirety of Edda's family, with the exception of Hallas who slept oblivious in his own room, were singularly focused on Rukhash. Even Guthwen leaned forward, her knitting forgotton. Cadoc noticed a subtle, twitching shadow at the corners of the orcess's mouth, and realized she was biting back a smile. Looking at the horrified expressions of his relatives, he found he had to hold back a smile of his own.

_You are enjoying this, aren't you?_ Cadoc thought with a touch of familiar fondness.  _Terrorizing this poor family. How orcish of you, Rukhash._

The orcess paused dramatically and turned so she sat with her back to the fireplace. The red flames licked around the dark outline of her figure and her bright eyes glowed eerily in the shadow of her features. Resting her clawed hands on her knees, she leaned forward and turned her attention towards Morwen, who looked unnerved by orcess's attention.

"When I were a girl 'bout yer age," the orcess said slowly, nodding at Morwen, "I served my mistress Grazad in the black pits under  _Lugbúrz_ , which yer folk call  _Barad dûr._ Never, in yer blackest dream, could you imagin' such a place. There ain't never light, even at the day, and always you hear the horrible howlin' of the prisoners at the torture wheel." Cadoc noticed Elador absently place a protective arm around his daughter, no doubt imagining Morwen in Rukhash's place. The smoke of his pipe curled up into the air, lazy and forgotten.

"She were a nasty hag, Grazad were. She didn't spare the whip on ya if you crossed 'er, but she were a skilled healer an' I helped her with the women givin' birth and the newborn orclings and the soldiers all tore up from battle, and she taught me about her medicines." Edda's hand raised up to touch her lips thoughtfully, and her gaze flicked to Cadoc. The Ranger shrugged and turned his attention back to Rukhash.

"One a my tasks was gettin' her plants. Most I could find by the marshes, but there was one plant she needed what only grew in the valley around  _Dushgoi_ , the dark tower where their Lordships resided." Cadoc took a slow puff from his pipe as he realized Rukhash was referring to the Morgul Vale, the bleak land surrounding Minas Morgul.

"Couldn't you refuse?" Edda asked in a small voice.

Rukhash barked out a mocking laugh. "Oh sure, and Grazad would have whipped me raw.  _Nar_ , I were more scared a that old bint than I was some specter. I was an Isengarder, a fighting Uruk hai!" the orcess's tone became prideful at the mention of her heritage. "I didn't have the good sense yet to fear the Wraiths. What were they t' me? A pack of long dead  _tarks_  in robes?  _Skai!_ Grazad's whip were realer than they were."

"So, I make the trip from  _Lugbúrz_ to  _Dushgoi_  an' I find the spot she told me 'bout; right around the edge a the valley. Place stunk like you wouldn't believe! It were enough to make a girl dizzy. Worst a that was I had to take my time wit' things. Grazad were real specific 'bout that. She didn't want me pulling out the plants by the roots. I had to pluck a few leaves real careful and go to another plant an' pluck a few leaves real careful, and on and the like."

"I's there a few hours fillin' up my satchel an' startin' to get used to the stink when I get this queer feeling all over." Rukhash paused again to rub her rams thoughtfully. Wulf had edged a little closer to his mother and Morwen was leaning into her father, a look of fascinated horror on their faces.

"It were like a load a spiders crawlin' under my skin," the orcess said with a scowl. Cadoc noticed her shudder with the memory of it and frowned thoughtfully to himself. "I turn around real slow like, feelin' like someone's watching me, and then I seen 'im."

"A Nazgul?" Morwen whispered.

"Aye," Rukhash said darkly.

"Was it the Witch King?" Wulf wondered, and Rukhash shook her head.

" _Nar_ ," the orcess said. "It were one a them others, but it didn't matter, far as I were concerned. He were there in front a me, no further than a few paces, very real an' terrible in 'is silent malice." Rukhash glared at Wulf pointedly. "I'll tell you, it's real eerie looking into a hood and seein' nothin in there but blackness." Wulf swallowed audibly, and Edda rested a comforting hand on his head.

"What happened next?" Cadoc asked, now fully invested in the story.

Rukhash's glanced in his direction and grinned mirthlessly. "He spoke t' me." The orcess lowered her tone into a hissing, ghoulish whisper as she mimicked the Nazgûl's inhuman voice, "' _What are you doing here, girl?'_  he says." Cadoc noticed Edda's hand move anxiously to her throat.

"'Sir,' I told 'im," the timbre of the orcess's voice lifted as she mimicked her younger self, her eyes round and shining. "'I'm here on account a my mistress. Told me t' come 'ere an' get plants for 'er.'" Snuffing, Rukhash's expression grew grave once more.

"Then," she continued, "I get this sense' like fingers is pluckin' around my brain. All squirmin' like my head is filled wit' maggots. Searchin', like they're lookin' fer somethin.' I start hearing these voices, too quiet to get what they're sayin', but I know it's nothin' but nasty business. Made me feel like I was gonna be sick right there in front of 'im."

"Thing is," Rukhash said curiously, "that Wraith, he didn't move or nothin'. All this madness is goin' on in my 'ead, and his Lordship never moved a muscle. Just stood there, _watchin'_ , and I get the feelin' like he's enjoyin' it. He likes what he's doin' to me. He could crush me like a worm, and he  _knows_  it, and he likes that power he's got over me." Cadoc noticed Rukhash's eyes grow bright with checked emotion, and the Ranger felt a pang of sympathy clutch his chest as he realized this story was not a made up fantasy. She lived this.

"I start gettin' choked," the orcess continued, reaching her hands to her throat as her eyes grew wide and terrified. "Like my throat is crushin' in on itsself and I start gaspin', tryin' to breath, but no air's comin' in. My hearts goin' on like a war drum an' I'm  _sure_  I'm gonna die. Almost feel like l can see the cold shadow on the other side. Then everythin' spun around me an' went black. Musta passed out, 'cause when I came-to the Wraith were gone and I was alone."

The entire room seemed to let go of a collective breath. Glancing around, Cadoc realized that the rest of his family had condensed themselves into an anxious cluster around Elador. Guthwen stood behind Edda's chair, while Morwen and Wulf were sitting on their parents' laps.

"I ran the whole way back to  _Lugbúrz_ ," Rukhash continued in a lighter tone. "Ran like there were an army a Horse Boys at my heels. Don't think I ever ran so fast before. When I got back into the pits, I throwed that satchel at Grazad an' told her she can fetch her own damn plants! I didn't even care if I got a beatin' for bein' smart about it."

"Didn't get beat though," Rukhash said thoughtfully. "Grazad looked at me real sympathetic-like. 'You seen one of 'em?' she asked me. ' _Aye_ ,' I told her, and she done the oddest thing. Sat me down an' poured me a stiff drink 'fore she ordered me 'bout my business. She were a mean spirited old hag, that one, but she weren't all bad."

"Miss 'er sometimes," Rukhash added, swallowing thickly. "But not them Wraiths!" Rukhash added seriously. "Them I'm glad're gone. So, you give that Lady 'er due," Rukhash glared at Wulf. "Them  _Nazgûl_ , they weren't nothin' to trifle wit'!" Wulf nodded wordlessly, his grey eyes round and glistening.

A hushed moment passed over the room.

"My goodness!" Edda exclaimed suddenly, her voice shaking. She rose to her feet, gently removing Wulf from her lap in the process, and smoothed her dress where her son's clinging had rumpled it. "That was quite a story, Rukhash, but now I think it is time for bed."

Morwen and Wulf groaned in unison, but rose dutifully to their feet. Elador bade his children good night, and they each gave him a peck on the cheek before Guthwen and Edda ushered the them down the hallway so they could prepare for bed. Elador sat for a long minute in his chair, chewing thoughtfully on the stem of his pipe as he regarded Rukhash seriously.

"I think you have given those children nightmares for the rest of their lives," Cadoc said lightly, hoping to clear the dark specter of Rukhash's tale. The orcess grinned mischievously as she laced her fingers and stretched.

"The girl said she wanted a scary story," she replied, still grinning. Cadoc noticed Elador's bushy brows draw together in consternation.

"That really happened to you, didn't it?" Elador asked the orcess, and she turned towards him with round eyes. Rukhash opened her mouth and closed it again, seemingly unsure of what to say.

"Aye, it did," she admitted finally. "Though I laid it on a bit thick at the start. Couldn't really hear the dungeons. Them walls were too thick."

Elador cleared his throat uncomfortably. "And the Nazgul?" he queried.

"That happened like I said," Rukhash nodded. "Though, now that I think on it, he were probably just puttin' me in my place."

"What do you mean by that?" Elador asked, raising his brow.

"Gar, I were a haughty thing then," the orcess replied. "Walkin' around like I were better'n most. Nothin'll put the humble in you like bein' choked out by a ghoul! Still... it gives me the spooks ta remember it." Elador released a long exhale through his nose and rose to his feet. Rukhash followed his movements curiously as retrieved a tall decanter and three glasses from the other room, poured a small drink and offered it to her. Rukhash took the glass from him warily and set it in the valley of her lap. Elador offered another glass to Cadoc, which the Ranger accepted with a baffled expression, and finally poured himself a glass before returning to his seat by the fire.

Rukhash sipped the cool, amber liquid gingerly, pleased with its subtle, sweet flavor. She kept a careful eye on Elador as he stared listlessly at the flames. His gaze flicked to her, and he took a long steadying breath.

"You were my daughter's age during The War?" he asked the orcess at length.

"Just about, I suppose," Rukhash replied. "I were 'round twelve winters when Orthanc flooded." Rukhash worried her lip, wondering if this would become an extensive inquiry.

"Younger than her, then," Elador said absently, and took a slow sip from his glass. "Are you unique among your kind?" he asked after a long second.

Rukhash looked to Cadoc, who shrugged, obviously just as unsure as to where Elador's line of questioning was going. "How do you mean?" Rukhash replied, confused.

"I mean," Elador clarified. "Are there others of your kind who have not raised a sword against Gondor?"

Rukhash stared into the glass in her lap. "There were plenty of us what weren't soldiers," Rukhash told him, thinking of the scores of orc women in the pits and the rows of tiny orclings crushed beneath the crumbling tower.

Elador drummed his fingertips against the cool, smooth surface of his glass. "It seems like you've had a difficult time of things," Elador said finally, an air of sympathy in his voice.

The orcess scowled. "Hey now, I never thought of it as all that difficult. If anythin', I had an easier time of it than most."

"What of that old orc woman who beat you?" Elador queried.

"Grazad?" Rukhash supplied. "She were just doin' her job. I hated her at the time, but lookin' back, now that I'm older, I'd say that I woulda been just as heavy handed."

"Oh?" Cadoc interjected, surprised by her answer.

" _Gar_ , Grazad had a ton of girls under her," the orcess explained. "There were a lot of folk she had to be responsible fer. She didn't have time to waste on some smart mouthed little snot that thought she knew better." Elador smiled in spite of himself at Rukhash's description of her younger self.

"If she were alive now," Rukhash continued somberly, "I'd let 'er know how grateful I am she taught me what she did. If she hadn't, I'da had no status afterward, bein' the runt that I am, and Cadoc would most like be dead or missing his leg. A break like that takes someone who knows what they're doin' ta fix it."

"Then I suppose I should thank her as well," Cadoc said with a soft smile, raising his glass in Rukhash's direction. "To your old mistress," Cadoc said, and downed the rest of his brandy.

"To Grazad," Rukhash agreed, and followed suit.

Elador quietly regarded the two of them during this brief exchange before finishing his own drink.

"Rukhash," Elador said as he stood. Rukhash, sensing this conversation was coming to a close, also rose to her feet. "I want you to know," he announced, "that you are more than welcome in our house, if you wish to stay."

Rukhash blinked owlishly at him. "I don't want to put you folks out," she replied uneasily. She had not considered staying. She was very sure that would not turn out well for anyone.

Elador shook his head. "Not at all," he assured her. "I'm not sure if Cadoc has mentioned this, but he stays in our old home on the grounds."

"Your... old home?" the orcess parroted.

"Yes," Elador confirmed. "Before my good fortune afforded us this fine house, we lived in a much smaller dwelling. We have kept it in good order, and Cadoc has wintered there for the past five years. There are two bedrooms, so there should be more than enough room for the two of you."

"You have  _two_  houses?" Rukhash said flatly, slightly dumbfounded. Realizing that she was gaping, she closed her jaw abruptly.

"I have made wise investments in my farm," Elador informed the orcess, amused by her astonishment. "We have done quite well over the years. Now," Elador addressed Cadoc, "I believe Edda has already prepared the rooms for you, if you care to retire for the evening."

"Thank you, Elador," Cadoc said as he struggled to his feet. Rukhash set her glass on a nearby table and hurried to take his arm, helping him up. Plucking Cadoc's crutch from its place against the armchair, she handed it off to him. The Ranger thanked her as he took it and tucked the crutch under his arm.

"Will you require assistance?" Elador offered, eyeing the pair curiously.

"I've got 'im," Rukhash said as she supported Cadoc's arm.

Elador nodded, and Cadoc could not discern his brother-in-law's expression. There was a hint of concern in Elador's eyes, but he smiled at the pair of them gently.

"So I've noticed," he said.

* * *

The hundred yard trip from the main house was a slow one. The night had turned bitter and a light snow peppered down on the pair. Rukhash insisted Cadoc take his time, as much of the muddy ground had turned to hard, slick patches. By the time they reached the spare house, a chill had worked its way into Cadoc despite his heavy, wool cloak, and Rukhash hurried him in front of the hearth. Edda had already lit a fire, and the orcess piled a few extra logs on top to get it roaring.

"Thank you," Cadoc said gratefully as Rukhash pulled a step stool under his injured leg and set it up to rest.

"It's nothin'," the orcess replied.

"So this is your sis's old house?" Rukhash murmured to herself, looking around. This residence was significantly smaller than the main dwelling, and spoke to the humble beginnings of Elador and Edda's marriage. Cadoc sat on a low, ruddy sofa in front of a large hearth. This small sitting area was located in the main room, opposite a kitchen area that included a tiny wood stove and a long, wood countertop that sat atop a row of tall, dark cabinets. Over the counter, a small, deep window displayed the gently falling snow outside.

Two narrow doorways were located along the wall to the right of the fireplace. Further inspection revealed these to be bedrooms. The larger of the two contained a wide bed and tall wardrobe. Cadoc's sword leaned on the corner near the headboard. The two bedrooms were connected by a door between them, and Rukhash entered the second, smaller bedroom through that door. This room contained a narrower bed and a long chest of drawers. Rukhash noticed her wolfskin cloak and leather tunic hung along the hooks on the far wall and her bow, arrows and short sword were laid carefully along the length of the dresser.

Realizing this was meant to be  _her_  room, the orcess paused to sit gingerly on the bed. The mattress was on the older side, but still relatively firm. Allowing herself to fall back onto the bed, Rukhash took in a deep breath, appreciating the crisp, clean scent of the linens. While her own bed of furs and straw lining back at her cave had a comfortable, familiar smell, the orcess admitted to herself, albeit grudgingly, that she enjoyed the  _novelty_  of it. After all, what other orc could boast of sleeping on fresh linens? Rukhash rolled to sit up, and realized the small fireplace in the corner was starting to burn out. Retrieving a few logs from the stockpile in the main room, she built up the fires in each of the bedrooms to a reasonable state.

Cadoc watched Rukhash explore the cottage with quiet amusement. After her foray into the bedrooms, she wandered into the kitchen. Cadoc turned himself partway around, resting his arm on the back of the sofa so he could observe her better. Cadoc was not sure if it was the absence of other people, or the fact that this place was less grandiose, but Rukhash seemed much more comfortable here than in Edda's large house. The orcess brushed the bundles of dried herbs strung above the counter, causing them to sway. She peered into the small clay pots of oils and herbs on the countertop, and Cadoc smiled as she flared her nostrils, testing the scent of each container before carefully replacing the covers.

"Do you mind getting us something?" he asked. The orcess ceased her examinations and faced him curiously.

"What's that?" Rukhash said, noting the plain state of the mantle behind Cadoc with a sense of relief. This cottage was far less ostentatious than the main house, and for some reason, that put Rukhash at ease.

"There is a bottle and on the window sill," Cadoc instructed. "Could you fetch that and two glasses? Those will be in the cupboard near the stove." Rukhash retrieved the half-full bottle and glasses and joined Cadoc on the sofa. He still wore the heavy cloak from their brief foray through the gathering snow, and Rukhash helped him out of it before pouring each of them a glass of the strong smelling liquor.

"Thank you," Cadoc said as he took a glass from her. "And for taking care of the fire as well. I'm not sure what I will do if you decide to leave."

"I see how it is," Rukhash said with a rue smile. "You want me around to wait on you." Rukhash took a tentative sip from the glass. This was a much more potent libation than what Elador poured for them. Rukhash reminded herself to be careful with it. Orc draught left the head mostly clear, unlike liquors or beers – whether of orcish or mannish make – that left one feeling fuzzy around the edges. The last thing she wanted to do before she left was make a fool out of herself.

Cadoc fingered the wool of her sleeve where it rested just above her wrists. "This dress looks nice on you," Cadoc said absently, and, honestly, it did. Aside from the too short sleeves, it fit her properly in all the right places. Cadoc doubted Hedon would confuse her gender if he saw her now.

"Hn," Rukhash grunted dismissively. "Clean up arright, I guess."

Cadoc smiled cheekily at her and took a long drink from his glass. "Ah," he sighed. "A little whiskey is good to warm up with." He added a little more to each of their glasses. Rukhash regarded him with wry humor.

"You trying to get us drunk?" the orcess laughed.

"That," Cadoc told her, as he clanked his glass against hers with a laugh of his own, "is why we drink from clear glasses. So we know how much we've had."

"Har!" the orcess barked. "That's  _tarkish_ wisdom, I'd say." Resting her head against the back of the sofa, Rukhash contemplated the man sitting next to her. Cadoc was staring into the fire, sipping thoughtfully. His grey eyes sparkled with gold reflections.

_I'm goin' to miss that ugly face_ , Rukhash thought with a sad smile. A serious mood seemed to settle between them, and the orcess watched a number of emotions play across Cadoc's face. Rukhash sipped her own drink, cautious not to break the somber silence.

"I wish you'd stay," Cadoc said at length, and Rukhash felt his calloused hand cover her own, clawed one. She swallowed nervously. Rukhash had been waiting for this, and she steeled herself against the persuasive words she knew were coming. No amount of cajoling would convince her to stay. The potential consequences were too great.

"You're going to have to fetch yer own bottles, Cadoc," Rukhash told him.

The Ranger turned to face her. "You know that isn't why I want you to stay," Cadoc said, squeezing her hand gently and running his thumb along the coarse texture of her knuckles.

"Then why?" Rukhash asked, feeling a little warm in the face and very confused. Cadoc reached up and gently brushed her unruly, dark hair behind a pointed ear. His hand traced the delicate fold of her ear to the length of her jaw to settle at the hollow of her throat. Rukhash felt a dangerous thrill run through her, and she pulled his hand away and lowered it between them.

A thoughtful frown crossed Cadoc's features. "I think... I am not ready to see you go yet."

Rukhash swallowed visibly, her eyes honey dark. She shifted forward, brushing her cheek against his, and Cadoc felt the heat of her breath curl against his ear. " _I_  think," she whispered, "we've both had enough to drink." Rukhash leaned back and set her half-full glass on the low table behind her. Cadoc blinked stupidly.

"Goin' to bed," she announced as she stood abruptly, and the orcess vanished into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Cadoc stared at the door to her room for several long minutes, unsure of what just transpired.

"Good night, Rukhash," Cadoc sighed, and finished his drink.

Inside her room, Rukhash lightly ran her claws along the path Cadoc's fingers traced down her face. The fire crackled pleasantly on the far end of the room, causing long shadows to dance merrily along the wall. The orcess watched them twine around each other for long, silent minutes. Eventually, she heard the steady thump of Cadoc's crutch as he made his way from the sofa to his bed. She had closed the door between their rooms, though now she wasn't sure why she bothered. It wasn't as if she expected him to follow her in here. Growling softly, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to sleep.

"Fool," she muttered. Though, she had no idea who she was mocking.


	12. Force of Nature

**Splint**

**Chapter Twelve: Force of Nature**

* * *

A cold, white light woke Rukhash from her sleep. Opening her eyes languidly, the orcess realized it was coming from the narrow window above her dresser. The fire in the hearth had burned out during the night and the orcess remained ensconced in the warm bedding for several, long minutes, staring sleepily at the thin curtains waving in a gentle draft. The cottage was quiet except for the dull howling of the wind outside and an occasional creak from the roof.

Deciding she had slept in long enough, the orcess sat up slowly; stretching catlike as she yawned. The temperature inside had dropped significantly from the night before and Rukhash shivered as her bare feet touched the rough texture of the frigid wooden floor. She stared lazily at the white nothingness revealed by the window as she pulled on her thick, dark boots. Annoyed at her obscured view, the orcess crossed the short distance to the window. Stretching over the dresser, she rubbed the sleeve of her dress against the chilled glass. This did nothing but remove a thin film of condensation, and the orcess squinted against the white vision beyond the pane.

"The fuck," she muttered. "Musta froze over."

Crawling onto the old dresser, Rukhash nudged her weapons aside with her knee and, shouldering the thin curtains out of her way, grasped the heavy bolt on the side of the pane to lift it up and out of the lock. Her first, half hearted shove caused the old paint to crack against itself and a few flakes loosed from their spot and sprinkled onto her dress. The window, however, barely budged. Cursing under her breath and squaring her shoulders, she heaved against it with all of her considerable strength. This wedged the window open with a muffled, crunching sound and Rukhash fell forward onto a frozen shelf. She looked up, dumbfounded, at a ceiling of snow; her upper body resting in a triangular hollow made by the window. Reaching up through the frozen canopy, her dark arm traveled through several inches before she managed to break free of the drift and touch the bitter, rushing air outside. The orcess cursed again and pulled her arm inside, bringing some of the snow with her. Rukhash stared at the bleak sky through the tunnel her arm had made, completely stunned.

"Bleeding  _bor pushdug_ ," she hissed, alarmed. Pulling the window shut with unnecessary ferocity, the orcess sprang from her perch on the dresser and out of the bedroom, crossing the main room of the cottage in bisque strides. With a flood of frigid air, she opened the outside door to a frozen landscape. The orcess braced herself against the wind as she stepped onto the small porch and examined the severity of her situation.

Beyond the cover of the awning, a few small flurries drifted down, the remnants of whatever storm had raged through the night while she slept. With an inward sigh of relief, the orcess realized it was not as serious as the view from her bedroom would suggest. The snow was deep, but while the wind gathered impossibly high drifts against the main house and cottage, it also blew deep valleys in the barer stretches, and the orcess could still see the peppering of dry grass in a few wind swept areas. She could still be on her way today. Orc blood ran hot –  _Hot as the rage of Mordor,_  as her father would say – and while the orcess would be hesitant to make the long trip home in a raging blizzard, a few snow drifts would not be an issue.

Cadoc slept oblivious, snoring lightly with his mouth hanging open like a gasping fish. Rukhash stood for a long time in the doorway connecting their rooms, unsure of what she was feeling. There was a real part of her that wanted to stay. That much she could admit to herself. Somehow her attachment to him had grown beyond a simple need for company, or a desire to make him see orcs as something more than just an enemy, but what passed between them the night before confused and troubled her. It would be better for both of them if she left. A small tightness formed in her chest as she thought of her cold, empty cave, just three days away, and Rukhash almost scoffed out loud at her foolish sentimentality. Certainly, she had spent more time alone there than in the presence of this ranger.

Besides, she would return in spring to see that Cadoc kept his promise. The orcess found herself straighten at the thought. She would be back, after all. Then, Cadoc would lead her safely to Mordor where she could be with her own people. She could put this whole, muddled business behind her and start a real life. The life she was supposed to lead. The life of a true orc.

* * *

Cadoc woke slowly, half aware of the pleasant warmth surrounding him. He smiled as he sat up and saw the newly fed fire beyond the foot of his bed. A pair of spare logs were laid out next to the hearth. Getting to his feet, the ranger shuffled towards the open door connecting his room with Rukhash's. The bed was empty, and her sheets were turned up haphazardly. Cadoc was a little surprised she had bothered to make her bed in the first place, and smiled again at her thoughtfulness. Standing at the doorway to the main room, Cadoc noticed the fire in that hearth had also been recently fed. On the counter, the old teapot sat next to a mug and a small, brown package. Frowning, Cadoc turned to look over Rukhash's room again.

Her belongings were gone. Yesterday, Cadoc had watched Edda gather the orcess's possessions to rehouse them in the cottage. Now the hooks and dresser – which should have sported her cloak and weapons – were empty. In their place hung the gray dress she borrowed from his sister. Cadoc hobbled into the kitchen to examine the package left for him. He recognized the contents immediately as the medicine she prepared for him before they left her cave four days ago.

Though Cadoc had his doubts about orcish medicine at first, he was impressed with its effectiveness. Technically, his injuries should have been further behind in healing. Rukhash informed him that this was because of the bitter potion she made him drink each morning. Though she had insisted on a few occasions that an orc would be healed from an injury such as his by now, Cadoc knew, if left to the care of mannish medicine, he would still be bedridden.

The dark, soft brick had a row of inch square cubes cut out of it. One cube was placed in his empty teacup next to the kettle. Cadoc realized this was her way of instructing him on dosage; something she had neglected to do in the past, since she oversaw making his medicine herself. The amount she left would supply him for four weeks easily. Beyond that, he assumed his leg would finish healing on its own.

Cadoc wasn't sure why he expected a note of some kind. Rukhash had shown no sign that she knew either reading or writing, but he was troubled that she had left without saying goodbye. Had he driven her off? Was she offended by the gentle moment that had passed between them? Cadoc heated water and mixed his medicine with a hollow feeling in his gut.

In a burst of frigid air, Edda entered the cottage to find her brother sitting somber and alone at the kitchen counter; sipping slowly from a hot mug. Scanning the room, she realized the orcess was nowhere to be found. Edda shifted the large bundle in her arms to gain better purchase. Crossing the distance between them, she came to set the supplies on the counter next to Cadoc. She regarded her brother's dour expression thoughtfully as she shed her cloak.

"Where's Rukhash?" Edda asked him lightly. "Still sleeping?"

Cadoc sighed through his nose and stared at the dregs of his mug. "She's gone."

"Gone?" Edda was a little surprised. Elador had told her last night that he invited the orcess to stay as long as she liked. With the heavy snow that had fallen, Edda was sure the Rukhash would have taken him up on his offer.

"She'd mentioned before that she had no intention of staying," Cadoc informed his sister, and Edda could not ignore the melancholy in his voice.

"But with all this snow..." Edda trailed off, disconcerted with her brother's dreary mood. Cadoc shifted uncomfortably on his stool, and turned to face her fully. Gazing at the large package she had carried in, he favored her with a small, forced smile.

"What's all this?" he asked, purposefully shifting the conversation.

Edda decided to take her brother's lead and drop the subject of the orcess's absence. "Oh," she breathed. "Well, I thought to bring you a few necessities. I did not think it would be wise for you to be traveling between the cottage and the main house with your injury."

Edda untied her large package to reveal a pile of books and wrapped foodstuffs. Carefully separating the contents, she began filing away the food in appropriate cupboards. Letting Cadoc know what was where, she was careful to place everything in accessible areas. Cadoc nodded as his sister prattled off each item while he carelessly leafed through the books she had brought. Edda's library was humble, but education had been important to their late father, and Edda made sure that all of her children knew their letters and numbers. Cadoc had read most of the books she assembled for him, but many he would not mind reading again. He smiled to himself, not surprised that his sister knew his tastes so well. The books she had brought him were heroes' sagas and old mythologies, and would help to bide the time while he was homebound. A pair of Edda's older dresses were at the bottom of the package, and Cadoc ran his fingers over the rough homespun, aware of who they were intended for.

"I suppose I'll pack those away again," Edda said when she noticed where Cadoc's attention was centered. "Though it's a shame. They are still good dresses, I've just not the figure for them any more." Edda ran her hands self consciously down her matronly hips with a subtle frown. Cadoc put a warm arm around her shoulder and hugged her close.

"You've the figure of a fine woman," Cadoc assured her, aware of how affected his sister was by her looks, though Cadoc could not imagine way. If anything, her mature figure added to the gracefulness of her girlish features. "I am sure Elador would agree with me."

Blushing, Edda slapped at his chest half heartedly. "Oh, you," she laughed. "I need to feed Hallas, but I'll fetch your breakfast first."

"Tend your son, sister," Cadoc said as he lifted one of the sagas from the pile of books and made his way to the sofa. "I'm not terribly hungry at the moment." Edda tucked her shawl around her more tightly and pulled on her cloak. Coming to stand behind her brother, she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright, Cadoc," Edda said, hoping to lighten her brother's mood, or to sooth whatever fears he had about Rukhash's fate. "It seems to me that your friend has been through worse than a snowstorm. I'm sure she'll be fine on her own."

Cadoc tensed at her words, but he reached up to pat his sister's hand absently. "I'm sure you're right, Edda," he said, though there was no conviction in his voice.

The next several days were punctuated by Edda's frequent visits. Elador would stop in with her often and engage Cadoc in friendly conversation over a pipe. Guthwen would see to her son's suppers and Morwen and Wulf would pop in after their chores for a story or two from their uncle. Rukhash was never discussed. Cadoc felt that was Edda's doing. His sister had always been of the mind to evade grievous topics, and Cadoc had a feeling that Edda had instructed her family to avoid mentioning the absent orc in order to spare Cadoc's feelings.

Despite his frequent, friendly company, Cadoc found his thoughts returning to Rukhash often. At first he was angry at her. The orcess's sudden disappearance seemed excessive and unfair. After all the time they had spent together in camaraderie, and the warm welcome his family had given her, Rukhash could have been decent enough to say goodbye. That anger only lasted a day or so before Cadoc realized that she was most likely trying to avoid a messy departure. Cadoc could not explain his behavior the night before she left, but he had obviously made her uncomfortable. It made sense that she would leave quietly after that. She most likely feared a repeat performance in the morning.

As for what had passed between them, Cadoc was at a loss to explain it to himself. While the liquor had made him comfortably warm, and perhaps a little too relaxed, it was not the driving force behind his actions. Cadoc could not deny that he had begun to feel  _something_  for the orcess, but what that something was still eluded him. It was definitely more than simple pity for her fate of gratefulness for her aid, though Cadoc would not describe it as love. He had loved Ingrid from the moment he met her – a part of him would always love her, despite the pain she had caused him. That emotion was too strong to confuse for anything else. Cadoc had guarded his heart jealously after his divorce, and he would know if it had betrayed him in such a way. Nor did he feel a blind, fanciful desire or perverse fascination with her race. While Cadoc considered Rukhash comely in her own, alien way, and her orcish nature was interesting at times, the more bestial aspects of her features and disposition were still enough to give him pause, no matter how domestic her appearance. What he did feel was a true affection when he thought of Rukhash; an admiration for her strength and a fondness of her gruff nature. She was a curious mixture of coarse and gentle. He did not lie when he told Hedon he considered her a friend.

She was a cherished companion, and whatever else he felt apart from that was arbitrary. Cadoc hoped that his foolish behavior had not soured their friendship permanently. He would hope to see her again in the spring and help her return to her people. As her friend, he could do no less than keep his promise.

* * *

"That girl, I'll tell you," Guthwen clucked. "Eddawen is going to spoil her rotten." The older woman was hunched over the wood stove in the cabin, stirring furiously at a pot of thick soup. Cadoc smiled at his mother.

"She just wants Morwen to have the things she didn't," Cadoc said, trying to sooth his mother's temper.

Cadoc regretted his ill chosen words as Guthwen fixed him with a withering stare and began wagging her wooden spoon in his direction. "The two of you wanted for nothing!" she admonished, and Cadoc raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Of course we didn't," he said gently. "Mother, I don't think buying Morwen a new dress will spoil her."

She harrumphed and turned back towards the stove. "A little hardship never hurt anyone," the older woman said, more to herself than her son. Cadoc chewed quietly on a crust of soft bread and let his mother complain, recognizing that she was looking for a sympathetic ear and not a conversation.

Their one-sided discussion was broken by a curt rapping at the door.

Mother and son exchanged a curious expression. Wiping her hands on her apron, Guthwen crossed the main room to answer the knock. Though Cadoc couldn't see who was past his mother's silver head, he noticed her whole posture stiffen. Intrigued, Cadoc rose to follow her.

"What are  _you_  doing here?" Guthwen asked in a bitter tone. Cadoc sighed when he saw who she was addressing.

Ingrid was just as beautiful and severe as she had ever been. Her bright, strawberry hair was twisted up in a simple style. Her pale face offset by fierce, green eyes; sharp and defiant and cold. Cadoc swallowed roughly. Though he tried to see if his son was with her as well, Guthwen was blocking the better portion of the door, her hand clutched possessively at the post.

"Guthwen," Ingrid addressed his mother evenly. Then, looking past the older woman, she nodded in his direction. "I have business with your son."

"I'm sure you do, you treacherous little witch!" Guthwen snapped.

"Mother!" Cadoc admonished. Ingrid's fine mouth was drawn into a firm, resentful line.

"Please, Ingrid," Cadoc said calmly as he removed his mother from the entrance, "come in. Mother, go see if Edda needs your help with the children. I can see to my own affairs."

Guthwen's gray eyes flashed rebelliously for a heartbeat, but she cooperated quietly and gathered her things to leave. Ingrid remained outside until Guthwen left, exchanging a glare with the older woman as she passed. Ingrid entered with her head held high, though Cadoc noticed her eyes dart around nervously.

"What can I do for you, Ingrid?" he asked with a sense of weariness, though he had a good idea as to her purpose for visiting.

"Where is it?" Ingrid asked with a quiet dread.

Cadoc's brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?" he asked crossly. Cadoc was in no mood for subtle games tonight. If she refused to bring his son to visit, then Cadoc had no desire to entertain her more than necessary.

"The orc," Ingrid breathed. "I'd heard there was an orc staying with you. It is why I have not come to see you sooner."

Cadoc felt his jaw clench with nervous tension as he paused en-route to the kitchen area. "How did you find out about that?" he asked, doing his best to keep his voice even.

Ingrid made an unintelligible scoffing sound and positioned herself between him and the counter. "The whole village knows," she informed him. "Hedon told Nándra about your encounters and Nándra told  _everyone._  You know how gossipy that woman is."

Cadoc had always liked Hedon's wife, despite her running tongue she was a loyal and good hearted soul, but in that moment he felt capable of strangling the tiny woman. "And what exactly," Cadoc asked slowly, "does the whole village know?"

"That an orc saved your life," Ingrid began, "and also Hedon's, and that it was staying with you and your sister. Some have said it has somehow bewitched your family, but I think that Edda is daft enough to let an orc into her house. The magistrate had to disperse an unruly mob that wanted to march up here and burn your houses down. He said that, with no proof of foul play, order would be maintained."

" _The orc_  isn't here," Cadoc said, barely reigning in his anger. He felt a twinge of annoyance at Ingrid's relieved expression. "I suppose Baladnor had some hand in that mob," Cadoc added crossly.

Even before the man stole Ingrid from under his nose, Cadoc had not liked Baladnor. He had been an orc hunter in the years after the war, and while Cadoc had no grievances against such a profession – until he met Rukhash – Baladnor had been a part of a sect of orc hunter that would trade orc heads for money. For just shy of a decade after the fall of Mordor, many provincial leaders offered a fair reward for an orc's head; hoping to rouse men's bravery – so beaten down by a perilous war – with gold. In Cadoc's opinion, there was no honor in such a profession. A ranger preserved the peace, be he battling orcs or men, and took only his yearly stipend as compensation for his service. For all the orcs Cadoc had killed, none of them had brought him any further boon than knowing they would not destroy another village.

In the end, Baladnor had received a just reward for his chosen profession. Five springs past, not long after he married Ingrid, an orc had run him through during a battle in the northern Misty Mountains. While his comrades were able to keep him from dying, his wound became viciously infected during his transport to the nearest village. Death had not claimed him, but the infection left him permanently crippled on his right side. Baladnor could no longer ride a horse or wield a sword with any dexterity. The last time Cadoc had seen the man, he was drowning his sorrow at the tavern.

Ingrid neither confirmed or denied Baladnor's involvement in the horde intent on marching upon Elador's property, but Cadoc sensed guilt in her silence, and that was enough. Pulling the chest containing his stipend from the far cupboard, Cadoc began counting out his ex wife's alimony in plain view and wished, not for the first time, that he had bothered to hire a lawyer before signing those divorce papers. He vindictively hoped her current husband drank the whole measure away. Their son, Holgar, was now serving as a carpenter's apprentice, and making his own money. As far as Cadoc was concerned, Ingrid could suffer with her miserable choice. Cadoc didn't want to hate Ingrid for what had happened between them. His absence in her life was just as hurtful towards her as her affair was for him, but Cadoc couldn't help the spite he felt towards the pair of them.

Ingrid fidgeted nervously as Cadoc set down each coin on the wood table with a dull  _clank_. She kept looking from the splint on his leg to his face with a sick expression. Ingrid clasped Cadoc's rough hands in her own, stilling his movements.

"Forgive me," she said quietly, and there was sorrow in her voice. "I am glad, Cadoc – truly glad – that you aren't dead. When I had heard you'd gone missing..." Ingrid's voice cracked as it trailed off, and Cadoc felt the rough edges of his anger smooth away. Their eyes met briefly, and Cadoc thought that he was looking at the Ingrid he had married so long ago. Steeling himself against his treacherous heart, Cadoc pulled his hand gently from her grasp and slid her portion of his income in front of her. After a miserable pause, Ingrid began collecting the coins from the counter, tucking them inside her dress pocket.

"I am surprised," Cadoc said as he watched her, "that your husband would let you come here, thinking an orc was on the premises."

"Baladnor doesn't know I'm here," Ingrid explained. "He is...out tonight." She did not expand on her answer and Cadoc didn't have the malice in him to press the matter. There was so much sorrow in her, and it was just as much his own fault as it was Baladnor's. Ingrid was too prideful to show her sorrow openly, so the fact that he was seeing it now made her sadness all the more poignant.

Edda took that moment to come storming into the cottage, her dark cloak swirling in the blast of winter that entered with her. Cadoc's sister marched into the main room with a triumphant smirk on her face and Cadoc positioned himself between his sister and ex wife, worried that Edda would begin a quarrel. His sister had once been quite companionable with Ingrid, but that had quickly soured after Cadoc's divorce. Edda was never good at holding her tongue when it came to her thoughts, especially her opinions of Ingrid.

"Edda..." Cadoc warned, feeling a ghost of protectiveness towards his ex wife. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, brother," Edda said cooly, "but I'm afraid you may be a bit put out this winter."

Cadoc felt a twinge of unease. Edda looked far too pleased with herself. "What are you talking about, Edda?" Cadoc asked, annoyed with his sister's ambiguity.

Before Edda could answer him, a series of boorish curses drifted in through the open door.

"Bleeding fuck, Edda," a familiar, gruff voice said from the porch. "What're you running the whole ways fer? I got a fuckin' weight on me." Rukhash appeared on the threshold, dressed head to toe in fur and leather, bowed under a large, leather rucksack with more ties and pockets than seemed necessary. Cadoc glanced towards Ingrid. She sported a horrified expression, her fist pressed against her mouth as if she was trying to stifle a scream. Edda looked completely pleased with this reaction, and ushered Rukhash inside, shutting the door behind them.

Upon seeing the silent horror of this unknown woman, Rukhash stopped short and regarded the three people in the room with her. Cadoc looked like he just swallowed a bug, while Edda's smug smirk bordered on creepy. Shifting the strap on her backpack uncomfortably, Rukhash decided that greeting Cadoc could wait and immediately headed towards her quarters.

"I'm stayin' outta whatever  _this_  is," she said, gesturing towards the three of them, and disappeared into the small, dark bedroom.

"She just showed up at our door, poor thing," Edda said innocently. "She looked so tired from her journey, I thought I'd bring her straight to her room." Cadoc shot Edda a withering glare.

"I need to go," Ingrid said hurriedly.

He grasped her arm to halt her escape, and Ingrid looked at Cadoc with wild eyes. "Ingrid," he said soothingly, "sit down. Rukhash isn't a danger to you." Cadoc led a stunned Ingrid to the nearest stool and sat her down gently.

"Edda," Cadoc addressed his sister. "Please fetch Rukhash out here so we can avoid any confusion." Edda seemed happy enough to retrieve the orcess from her room while Cadoc situated himself next to Ingrid. She looked ready to bolt from the room at any second.

Wary, Rukhash peeked out from the bedroom, a trepidatious expression on her face. Deciding Cadoc and his guest seemed calm enough, she crossed the short distance to where Cadoc stood, coming to stand an arm's length from the terrified woman seated in the kitchen. Edda remained in the doorway with her arms folded over her chest.

"Ingrid," Cadoc said, gesturing at the orcess, "this is Rukhash."

Deciding to take Cadoc's reassuring lead, Rukhash squared her shoulders and nodded amiably at the pale woman seated in front of her. "Hullo, ma'am," the orcess said. Ingrid gaped. The orcess shifted her weight uneasily and decided to try another tactic. "Yer Cadoc's wife?"

Blinking, Ingrid looked affronted. "Ex wife," the woman clarified.

" _Gar_ ," the orcess growled. "Whatever  _that_ is. You two got a lad, yeah?"

Ingrid looked uneasy. "Cadoc told you about Holgar?" The orcess nodded, and Ingrid shot a dangerous look in the direction of her former husband. Cadoc ground his teeth. Even with no frame of reference for such a thing, Rukhash could use a bit more discretion when speaking of such provocative topics!

Sensing her misstep, Rukhash decided to change the subject. "Listen, ma'am," Rukhash said, leaning towards Ingrid in a manner she hoped was companionable and not threatening. "I ain't sure what I was dragged in on, but I ain't here to cause no issue fer no one. If you need that I should leave for a bit, that's fine by me. I's just caught in a bad spot fer the winter, and Edda were nice enough to say I could crash here 'til spring come." Ingrid seemed to relax as the orcess explained herself, and Cadoc glanced at his sister. Edda shrugged nonchalantly at him with a small, knowing smile.

"I was just stopping by," Ingrid said hesitantly. "I really should be going, but it was nice to meet you...er...Rock-ash." Cadoc noticed the orcess bristle a little as Ingrid mispronounced her name, but Rukhash let it slide.

Ingrid pulled on her cloak, and turned towards the orcess as she prepared to leave. "Thank you," Ingrid said, nodding towards Cadoc, "for saving him."

Rukhash rubbed her neck sheepishly. "Weren't nuthin'," the orcess blushed. Ingrid bade Cadoc farewell and cooly disregarded Edda as she left. Rukhash watched the tender look that passed between Cadoc and Ingrid with a sinking feeling. Somehow, she imagined there was more between those two than a muddy past.

"I loathe that woman," Edda said as she glared at the front door.

"That was remarkably short sighted," Cadoc admonished, and limped resolutely towards his sister. "What were you thinking, barging in here like that? You nearly scared Ingrid half to death."

"So what?" Edda replied, annoyed.

"You know who her husband is," Cadoc said coldly. "You are lucky Rukhash was able to smooth things over before Ingrid left. Or do you not value your standing in the village?"

"Rukhash has no effect on my  _standing in the village_ ," Edda informed Cadoc vehemently. "What is Ingrid's drunk of a husband going to do? Stumble around on my property?" Cadoc rubbed his face tiredly, unable to continue this conversation. When he turned around, he discovered Rukhash watching them both carefully.

"I shouldn't have come back," the orcess said, quiet, and dropped her gaze to stare at her clawed hands.

"Don't be foolish," Edda said, rushing to the orcess's side and placing her hands on Rukhash's shoulders. "You are  _always_  welcome here. You stay right where you are and I will fetch you some supper and fresh clothes and you can have a nice sponge bath. We had ham for dinner. I know how much you like that." The orcess nodded dumbly. Edda gave Cadoc a dirty look as she rushed to gather some finer comforts for Rukhash, and Cadoc hobbled over towards the orcess, intent on apologizing.

Cadoc took a seat in the stool next to her. Now that he had a moment to examine her, Cadoc noticed that Rukhash looked much more gaunt. Her cheeks appeared a little sunken, and her eyes were hollow. What had happened to her in the past eight days? She looked exhausted; not at all like the vibrant orcess that he had come to know.

"What happened?" Cadoc asked her quietly. "You left so suddenly, I thought you were upset."

"Weren't nothin' like that," she replied. "Just didn't want there to be no sad goodbyes the day after. I fuckin' hate that shit." He could hear the weariness in her voice and it worried him.

"But when I got back to my cave," the orcess continued, "it were sacked. Weren't nothin of the food I'd gathered. I know it were wolves 'cause they shat all over the fuckin' place. The whole place was trashed. I cleaned it out and managed to salvage enough fer a couple'a days, but I couldn't track down nothin' and I thought...I thought maybe I come back here and stay like you said. I were so damn hungry, and I ain't got nowhere else to go..." The orcess's voice trailed off to a whisper as she spoke. Cadoc put an arm around Rukhash's shoulder and hugged her to his chest, resting his cheek on her greasy head. She smelled awful, like sweat and mud and her own strong odor, but Cadoc would not allow her to think that he was angry with her. In truth, he was glad she did not stubbornly remain on that mountain and starve to death.

"I'm relieved you're here," he said as he released her. "Edda is right. You are always welcome." She smiled at him weakly, her expression obviously relieved.

After a bath and a meal, Rukhash looked considerably more like herself, though her movements were stiff and weak. Edda even helped the orcess wash her hair in a large basin. Rukhash kept thanking his sister, a hint of shame in her voice. Cadoc wasn't sure if Edda noticed, but the orcess was obviously upset that she had to ask for assistance.

Once Edda had finished fussing over Rukhash, she left the orcess in Cadoc's company and returned to the main house to take care of her own family. Rukhash sat next to him on the sofa, dozing in the warmth of the hearth. Soon she was soundly asleep. Cadoc knew he would be unable to carry her to her bed without causing himself injury, so he covered her with a spare quilt. Before retiring to his own bed, Cadoc stooped to lay a gentle kiss on the dark, damp crown of her head.

"I am glad that you've come back," he whispered. Rukhash's ear flicked lazily, though she showed no sign that she had heard him.


	13. Blood and Iron

**Splint  
Chapter 13 Blood and Iron**

**AN:** I apologize now to my male readers. Sorry guys.

* * *

Cadoc woke the next morning to the discordant sound of pots clanking in the kitchen. Glancing out of his bedroom window, the ranger nearly groaned out loud when he noticed that the sun had barely begun to lighten the sky. Rubbing his face tiredly, he lurched out of bed. Cadoc pulled on a long robe and limped into the main room. The ranger paused, a little amazed by the sight that greeted him in the kitchen. Leaning heavily on his crutch, he gaped at the oddly domestic scene before him.

Rukhash was already up and dressed. The orcess had pulled her hair back into a loose horsetail, and wore a faded, rust colored dress – one of Edda's spares. She was worrying over a small, copper pot on the stove; her back to him. The counter was considerably more cluttered than the night before. Rukhash had a number of clay containers set out, and the whole table top was peppered with tiny dried sprigs and earth colored powders. She certainly knew how to make herself at home! Biting his cheek in an attempt not to laugh out loud, Cadoc meandered towards her. Rukhash's ear tilted back towards the heavy thuds the crutch was making on the wood floor, but she made no turn to greet him.

"Good morning," Cadoc said, amused. Rukhash glanced over her shoulder, her yellow eyes glinting in the dim morning.

"Yea, yea," the orcess rumbled at him. She had lit no lamps or candles to brighten her work area, though an oil lamp was readily available on the counter for such a use. Cadoc reminded himself that she did not require the extra light. Her cave had also been quite dark, even in the glare of midday.

With a quick whirl, she poured the dark liquid from the pot into a sturdy wooden bowl. Cadoc recognized the bowl immediately as the one she used to give him his medicine back at her cave. "I see you brought a few things back with you," Cadoc said conversationally.

Rukhash did not seem all that keen on conversing. The orcess cooled the still bubbling liquid with fresh water and unceremoniously slid the pungent brew in front of him. Cadoc stared at the dark silt as it began to settle. "And here I thought you were making me breakfast."

"The fuck'd I make you breakfast fer?" the orcess scoffed. "You can git 'round fine, and I ain't yer fuckin  _shaûk._  Now, take yer medicine. That stuff I left is all well and good, but all the better if it's fresher." Cowed by her terse tone, Cadoc dutifully drank his medicine.

_Until the end of my days, I will never forget this foul taste,_  Cadoc thought as he drained the liquid as quickly as possible.

Rukhash began stacking her containers in a neat row against the wall. "You shouldn't be needin' more than a walkin' stick in a weeks time," the orcess informed him as she wiped down the table and pot with a damp rag.

Cadoc brightened at that thought. "Really?" he said cheerfully. Rukhash chuffed and made a move to hurry past him. Cadoc stopped her by the elbow and examined her curiously. She was being even more curt than what the ranger considered normal. Her eyes looked much brighter after a good night's sleep, but there was a fine sheen of sweat on her brow and neck.

"Are you feeling well?" Cadoc asked, concerned.

Rukhash pulled roughly out of his grasp. " _Gar,_ " the orcess growled. "I'm fine. Don't harp on it." Cadoc reached out to clasp her shoulder, but the orcess ducked to the side with an animal snarl. "And quit  _touching_  me!" she snapped.

Cadoc snatched back his hand and raised his palms to placate her. "I'm sorry," he apologized hurriedly.

Rukhash stared at him with a mixture of annoyance and regret playing over her face. With an air of embarrassment, she reached out and patted Cadoc lightly on the arm. "Don't mind me," she sighed. "I ain't myself presently. I forget what a noseless bastard you are, sometimes."

Confused, Cadoc wasn't sure if he should take insult at her statement or accept her half hearted apology. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Are you sick?"

Rukhash stood before him for several long minutes, an inner war playing across her dark features. "It ain't..." the orcess trailed off uneasily. "It ain't nothing like that," Rukhash sighed. "I got the heat on me. Probably started at the cave, but I was too wore out to notice."

"What?" Now Cadoc was completely baffled.

"The heat," Rukhash repeated. "I'm  _in_  heat. You know, ready for breedin'." Cadoc's mouth fell open in a silent 'o' as his eyes grew round. He wasn't sure he was ready to view her in this kind of light.

Rukhash regarded his reaction with annoyance. "Don't fuckin' stare at me like that," she growled, and Cadoc snapped his jaw shut. "Fuckin' arsehole. Don't your  _tark_  women go through the same thing? Why are you turning fucking red?  _I'm_ the one that's gonna be bleeding from my cunt in a few days."

"Rukhash," Cadoc said tightly, "I did not need to know any of that."

"Well," the orcess huffed, throwing her arms into the air, "what're you asking stupid questions fer? I weren't gonna say nothin' about it!" Rukhash spun on her heel and stomped into her bedroom.

Cadoc heard the knob to the front door turn, and was relieved to see Morwen enter, carrying in a large, covered plate. Cadoc had never been happier to see his niece. Rising to his feet, the ranger gingerly lifted the plate from her hands.

"I think you need to speak with Rukhash," he told her.

Morwen blinked stupidly. "What?" she gaped. "Why?"

"Woman problems," Cadoc said, waving her in the direction of Rukhash's room.

Morwen smiled cheekily at her uncle. "Is that why your face is so red, Uncle Cadoc?" she asked, amused by Cadoc's flustering.

She giggled all the way across the room, but stopped short when she opened the door to Rukhash's bedroom to find the orcess naked from the waist up. Rukhash had already pulled on her leather breeches and dark boots, but her chest and arms remained bare. The orcess regarded the girl silently, obviously unashamed by her lack of dress. Morwen hurried into the dark room and shut the door behind her.

"You need something, Marvin?" Rukhash said cooly.

Morwen had always thought of the orc as comical rather than frightening. Rukhash was barely taller than the Morwen, and the orcess's mismatched clothing and general demeanor around large groups diminished her more disconcerting qualities. Now, Rukhash stood only a few feet away. Scars wound like silver rivers across her sable back and torso and her lean arms were well defined with muscle. Rukhash looked proud and fierce, her yellow eyes piercing in the gloom, and Morwen felt very small and alone in her presence. "Uh," Morwen gulped. "Uncle Cadoc said I should talk to you?"

Rukhash raised a brow curiously and pulled on her tunic. "What abouts?" Rukhash asked, and settled onto the bed, daintily folding her hands in her lap.

Feeling a little less nervous, Morwen plopped down next to the orcess and leaned in towards her companionably. "He said," Morwen whispered delicately, "that you are having...woman problems."

"Problems?" the orcess snorted. "Ain't no  _problem_  with anythin', I's just a bit on edge is all. Normal shit in the scheme a things, really. It'll straighten out once the bleedin' starts, then I'll be miserable fer a whole new set a reasons."

Morwen blinked, taken aback by Rukhash's frank manner. "Did you tell  _him_  that?" she asked, amazed by the audacity.

"More or less," Rukhash replied with a casual shrug, and rose to rummage through an open dresser drawer.

"No wonder he looked like a beet when I came in," the girl said, and raised her hand to politely cover a round of giggles.

"Yer uncle is a bleedin' child," Rukhash groused, and pulled a pair of long, furry tubes from the drawer. As the orcess pulled on each one, Morwen realized that they were like tall, fingerless gloves. Each one tied at the palm, wrist and armpit to hold the glove in place. Once on, they acted as arm and hand coverings for the sleeveless tunic.

"Men folk don't like to talk about lady issues," Morwen informed the orcess.

Rukhash shrugged on a worn leather vest and buckled a thick belt around her middle before falling back onto the bed next to Morwen. " _Mannish_  men folk, you mean," Rukhash clarified. "Your lot are awful queer about that sort of thing, ain't they?"

"So orc men don't mind discussing it?" Morwen asked, intrigued.

Rukhash seemed to ponder that for a moment. "More like they don't need to ask," the orcess said, and tapped her blunt nose. "My folk can smell a breedin' female from a mile off. Same goes fer the blood. That shit don't make lads edgy, it makes 'em excited." Morwen fidgeted with her skirts uncomfortably, and Rukhash frowned.

"You too young for this talk?" the orcess asked. "What are you, Marvin, fourteen years, there abouts? I were carryin' my daughter when I was yer age, but your folk seem to go about them sorts a things a lot different."

Morwen worried her lip between her teeth as she regarded the orcess thoughtfully. Rukhash had never mentioned her children before, though Cadoc had privately brought up the orcess's tragic past to the entire family. "I will not have to worry about such matters for a few more years," Morwen informed her.

"You had a daughter?" she asked, deciding to play dumb. Morwen was more than a little curious at the thought of baby orcs. Really, Morwen was rather taken by the thought of baby anythings. She was entranced with her infant brother.

"Aye," the orcess said with a sad smile. Rukhash's gaze seemed to drift off, as if she was looking at something far away. "A lad too," she added, quietly.

"What were their names?" Morwen couldn't help her curiosity, though she thought Rukhash's eyes seemed to shimmer a little in the growing light.

"My girl I called Rangmau and my boy were Raugvarg." Rukhash spoke their names with a soft reverence, and Morwen wondered if it was wise for her to bring up such a subject in the first place. A heavy sorrow seemed to settle over the room. Morwen laid a comforting hand on the orcess's shoulder, and Rukhash's attention settled back in the present.

"I prefer not to think on 'em," Rukhash said hoarsely, patting Morwen's hand lightly. "It's sad business, and in the past. No sense dwellin' on shit you can't make different."

Feeling terrible for pressing the issue, Morwen leaned over and enveloped the orcess in a hug. Rukhash went completely still, unsure of what to do. "I'm sorry, Rukhash," Morwen hugged the orcess a little tighter.

Rukhash wrapped her arm around the girl to give her a few light pats on the back. "Here now," the orcess said as she pried the girl off of her. "That's a bad habit, apologizin' for shit you had no part in. I'm just more watery eyed than normal 'round this time. Don't you worry at it."

Rukhash laid her palm on Morwen's chestnut curls. "Yer a good kid, Morwen," the orcess said lightly. "Got a decent heart, despite all yer fussiness."

"What happened to  _Marvin_?" Morwen said with a smile, glad to be rid of the nickname.

"Hn," Rukhash grunted. "What happened to  _Rookish_? Guess they both went to the same place."

Morwen and Rukhash emerged from the room looking mighty companionable, in Cadoc's opinion. Rukhash carried her tall, black bow and was dressed in her more orcish attire. "I take it your talk went well?" Cadoc ventured.

Stopping at the door, the orcess turned to face Cadoc with a disquieting scowl. "I need to go kill something," she said bluntly. Morwen choked on her shock and went pale.

The orcess rolled her eyes. "Like a  _rabbit_ , girl. Don't make such a fuss. Your dad has a whole buildin' full a cattle he slaughters, so quit bein' squeamish." Morwen nodded at the orcess with a nervous smile, and hurried out the door.

"I'll see you later?" Cadoc asked, and Rukhash tilted her head towards him obligingly before disappearing into the early morning. Cadoc hoped some fresh air and a little mild bloodshed would settle her temper.

* * *

The cold air felt good on her face. Rukhash slid handily down a sloping drift of snow and into a gully along a wide field. Peeking over the edge of her hiding spot, she was pleased to note the small gathering of deer further downwind had not spotted her. One of the bucks raised his horned head curiously, but dipped back down to continue eating once he sighted nothing out of the ordinary. Slinking along the narrow channel, the orcess positioned herself at a respectable distance from her quarry and threaded an arrow along her bow.

She found purchase in the stag's shoulder. The small herd scattered in the wake of the buck's honking bellow, and Rukhash leaped cleanly from the ditch and scented the air. Fresh blood and panic and a heady predatory rush made her blood thrum in expectation of the chase. The orcess shouldered her bow and took off after the stag as he vaulted gracelessly into the forest.

In a less primal part of her brain, Rukhash was glad she happened upon the tracks of this herd. Deer were hard to come by in the higher elevations during this time of year, so the opportunity to chase one down in the crisp, clean breath of winter was a real treat. There was no thick humidity or the ghostly stench of other animals to obscure the scent of her prey, and Rukhash felt a savage part of her elate in the acrid, sharp smell of fear wafting from the animal.

She had wounded the beast enough to cause a steady stream of blood to flow, but not so much as to hinder its escape. Rukhash's boots pounded along the frozen landscape, and the orcess delighted in running flat-out. It was satisfying feeling to use her more predatory skills. Matching her quarry's frantic pace, she wove through the sparse, naked undergrowth and hurdled over several rocky outcroppings. Rukhash finally caught the deer several miles from where she wounded it, at a high incline along a line of pine trees. Not bothering with her knife, the orcess leaped bodily onto the stag and dragged him to the ground. Her claws and teeth made quick, bloody business of his throat, and soon the animal ceased it's useless struggling and stilled as it bled out.

Panting, the orcess wiped the palm of her hand across her sticky face. She felt a little shiver of pleasure as her tongue licked along the gore on her fangs . Rukhash pulled the knife from her boot. Now, it was time for blades.

"That were a good run, old son," the orcess addressed the dead stag, patting his neck affectionately, and poised the tip of her knife at the top of his belly. A distant, thundering sound caught Rukhash's ear, and the orcess stilled with quiet dread.

Down the hill, a trio of black horses galloped towards her at an alarming rate. She could not make out the riders' features, but a foreboding feeling filled her at the sight of their dark blue cloaks. One man reached behind his back to draw a crossbow. Rukhash's heart caught in her throat, as she jumped to her feet. The orcess palmed her knife and dashed back the way she came.

Rukhash could run quite fast when the spirit took her to do so, and she felt properly motivated now. Larger orcs were powerful enough to keep pace with a horse. The Uruk hai were bred for speed and stamina, but Rukhash did not have the impressive stride of her larger sisters. The horses gained on her steadily. Soon the sound of their hoofbeats against the frozen ground was deafening, but Rukhash refused to let up. Her legs were churning wildly beneath her, and she barely noticed the landscape change from flatter terrain to high, rocky outcroppings.

"Rukhash!" a familiar voice called out, but the orcess was too panicked to place who it belonged to. "Rukhash, stop or you will be fired upon!" Recognizing Hedon's haughty tone, the orcess stumbled in her haste and confusion, half tripping over her own feet, and fell hard to the ground. She felt her leather breeches tear at the knees, and the air forced itself out of her lungs with a desperate  _whoosh_. The orcess coughed raggedly as the horses surrounded her, chomping their bits and snorting.

Righting herself, the orcess rolled out of the circle through dangerous legs that stomped around her head. Stumbling back, she found herself pressed against a large boulder surrounded on either side by steep, sheer walls of earth. The men and their mounts hedged her in, and Rukhash felt a feral rush of terror grip her. Taking a defensive stance, the orcess brandished her knife and roared wildly at the trio. The horses startled with an anxious prance, chomping at their bits nervously, but did not back away. Rukhash noted the grim expression of who she believed to be their leader, a tall, grey haired man flanked by Hedon on one side and the red headed archer on the other.

Rukhash hated how afraid she was. The men halted their steeds, and Hedon dismounted, motioning to his partners to hang back. The archer had an arrow trained on her, but Hedon's sword remained buckled at his side as he approached Rukhash with palms open.

"Rukhash," Hedon said in as gentle a voice as he could manage. Seeing the orcess's wild eyed, panicked expression, Hedon wished that he might have persuaded Magistrate Halbard to wait for her to return to Elador's farm. She was covered in gore, her ivory teeth stained with bright blood. Hedon wondered if she realized she was snarling at him; breathing so quick and shallow the ranger was surprised she had not passed out.

"No one is going to hurt you," Hedon soothed. He approached her slowly, thinking it was never wise to make quick movements towards a trapped animal. "You need to put down the knife," Hedon urged.

Rukhash shook her head adamantly, glaring. "Didn't do nothin' wrong," the orcess gasped. "Edda said no one lived out this way." Rukash was rocking on her feet, coiled so tight that Hedon was worried she might spring towards him at any moment. Her eyes were glassy with fear.

"Magistrate Halbard just wants to speak with you," Hedon told her quietly. "You are not accused of anything." The orcess swallowed visibly. Hedon watched a silent war wage in her as she looked from the magistrate to the deputy. A dozen long minutes passed while the orcess panted frantically, her teeth bared in a silent snarl. Hedon could sense Halbard's impatience growing, and thought for a moment to tackle the unstable orc to the ground. Much to Hedon's relief, Rukhash made the wiser choice and dropped her knife. Her eyes began to tear as she raised her palms above her head, and Hedon felt true sorrow for her.

_This is the only way_ , Hedon thought.  _If Halbard is not convinced of her docility, then he will let the townspeople make their own justice._  Hedon grasped her arm tightly and led her forward. She trembled violently in his grip.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered. "I am here in Cadoc's stead. I will not let them harm you. I still owe you for saving me, remember?" Rukhash nodded dully, though her eyes were fixed on Halbard and his deputy Damrod.

"We will bring her to the village," Halbard said, regarding the orcess with cold, blue eyes. The magistrate produced a pair of iron manacles from one of his ornate saddlebags, and the orcess's face filled with terror. Rukhash snarled suddenly and struggled against Hedon's grip on her shoulder. Clutching the orcess by the elbows, he pressed her arms into her sides and half folded over her as he wrestled her to the ground. She made a few attempts to throw her head back, in an effort to strike his face, but she was much smaller than him and only succeeded in bashing her head against his broad chest. She was growling low in her throat, a frighteningly inhuman sound that rose in volume as she fought him.

"You  _must_  go along with this," Hedon hissed in her ear, surprised by her violent surge of strength. "Trust me." Rukhash stilled and glared at him darkly over her shoulder, suggesting that she did not, in any way, trust him.

"Cadoc is holding me  _personally_  responsible for you safety," Hedon whispered under his breath, knowing her sharp, orc ears would hear him. "If you do not trust  _me_ , then I am sure you trust  _he_ has your best interests at heart."

Halbard watched the orcess carefully as she endured the irons placed on her wrists. She was a miserable looking creature, half soaked with the blood of her kill. Halbard was surprised to see tears streak down her filthy cheeks as the manacles were fastened with a metallic clank. He did not think orcs were capable of weeping.

When he witnessed the orc savage the throat of that poor stag, he assumed they would ride her down to her doom, but now she was still and complacent and obviously terrified of them. Though she did favor Hedon with one of the dirtier looks he'd ever seen. As the magistrate turned his horse to lead the orc towards the village, he wondered if Elador and Cadoc's fervent pleas in her favor were, in fact, justified.


	14. The Fire

**Splint**

**Chapter 14 The Fire**

* * *

A black rage filled Cadoc as he watched the procession approach. Magistrate Halbard led a chained Rukhash by a long rope. Hedon and Damrod followed behind, their faces grim. Men and women wandered out of their shops and houses to gawk at the orcess as she passed through the center of town to reach the judiciary building. A small crowd began to gather and their venomous whispers sounded like serpents hissing in Cadoc's ears.

His expression darkened when he saw the state Rukhash was in. She was covered in blood, either from her hunting or from injury. Her hair was a dark riot on her head, and her clothes were torn and filthy. Her eyes gave him pause, though. She kept and even pace behind Halbard, her golden gaze grim and defiant, and she held her head high, unflinching despite the jeering that began to rise up around her. Rukhash's proud bearing made her look all at once fierce and regal, and Cadoc would have smiled to see it if not for her desperate situation.

A small group of teenage boys dashed forward and pelted Rukhash with a large stone. A bright, red gash bloomed across her dark brow while a small cheer went up as the orcess stumbled to the side, and Halbard stopped his horse, Hedon and Damrod following suit. Before the magistrate could chastise the crowd, Rukhash regained her footing and pitched towards the brazen teenagers. The orcess bared her teeth in a cacophonous, echoing roar and the whole assembly went silent. It was a sound Cadoc had only heard when he fought against Uruk warriors, and he was chilled to hear it issue from her throat. The group of boys skittered back into the crowd, and the orcess looked pleased by the terrified recoiling of the onlookers. Cadoc felt Edda's strong, slender hand grip his bicep, and Cadoc put his arm around her shoulder, frustrated that he could do no more than watch.

Halbard had unbuckled his sword at the orc's outburst, but the orcess turned to continue following, and the magistrate relaxed his hand from the hilt. "Fucking arseholes," he heard her mutter before spitting rudely.

The magistrate was not surprised by Cadoc's presence at the courthouse. The ranger stood with his sister and her husband, Elador, and their two oldest children. The whole family looked worried to death, and Cadoc seemed especially affected by the sight of his orc paraded through the streets in chains. Halbard curiously noted the apologetic look the female orc gave to Cadoc as she was led inside by Damrod. The magistrate did not spare them a glance as he passed by. Cadoc and Elador had already said their peace, and Halbard was interested to see if this orc was everything they claimed her to be.

The orcess was brought to one of the smaller side chambers for interrogation. She remained chained and was tied to the overlarge oak table in the center of the room by her lead rope. Though she seemed to be much calmer than when they had captured her, Halbard made her wait on him under guard. He wanted her to sweat it out a bit. Her fear had turned to defiance at some point during their trek to the village, and while the magistrate did not want her wild with terror, a little unease in a prisoner was useful when it came to questioning.

The magistrate removed his dark cloak and sword belt at leisure, depositing them with a guard before acquiring a pitcher and basin. He strode unhurried back towards the room where the orc was being held. Halbard was surprised to find the orc female with her hands folded neatly in her lap, sitting calmly in the wide, oak chair on the far side of the table. Her eyes were just as defiant as when she entered, but her glare had lost a little of its conviction. Pleased that she seemed unsure of her situation, the magistrate set the metal basin and pitcher on the table. Halberd nodded silently towards the guards in the room, and they repositioned themselves outside, shutting the door behind them. The orcess's bright eyes followed their movements as they left. Though he did not look at her while he poured water into basin and set a rag to soak, the magistrate could feel the heavy stare of the orc on him.

"No swords? No guards? Don't seem real smart," the she-orc said slowly in a gruff, growling accent. "What's to keep me from tearin' out yer throat?"

Halbard straightened and regarded the orc for several long minutes before setting the basin and rag in front of her. "I imagine those chains would give you trouble," he said as he retreated to his own seat across from her. "Besides," Halbard continued, folding his hands in front of him, "I am told that is not your way. Or would you prove your hosts false?"

"Please," the magistrate said as he gestured towards the basin, "feel free to clean up. Unless you prefer to have a conversation while you are covered in blood."

The she orc scowled at him, but reached for the rag. She dabbed lightly at her head wound, but it had already stopped bleeding. The orc washed her face and carefully wiped the dried blood from her vest. Halbard watched her with silent, patient interest. He had seen many orcs during The War and after, but he never had the opportunity to observe one this closely without concern for his own life. Halbard believed he had never seen a female of the species before, though now that he gazed upon this one he was not so sure. Despite her smaller frame and slightly softened features, the magistrate thought he might easily mistake her for an adolescent male. Her abrasive voice did not help matters.

The basin water was bright red by the time the she orc was finished freshening up. She wrung the rag out a final time and laid it neatly over the side of the metal tub to dry. The orc's chains jangled as she sat back in her seat, regarding Halbard with a cool, calculating expression. "So," the orcess addressed him, "did you bring me here fer a reason, or did ya just want to fuck up my morning for the fun of it?"

Halbard rested his chin on his hand. "Cadoc tells me that you are innocent of the bloodshed wrought by your people. Is this true?"

The orcess blinked, confused. "What do ya mean by that?"

"I mean," Halbard huffed, "he says that you did not fight against Gondor, both during The War and after."

"That's true enough," the orcess confirmed easily.

"What  _did_  you do during The War?"

The orc's mouth firmed rebelliously. "I don't see how that's any a yer fucking business," she barked.

"I suppose you have no intention of discussing your activities after The War, either," Halbard assumed. The orcess turned her face away from him, staring at the ornate wood panels on the wall. The magistrate leaned back in his chair and was silent for a long minute.

"If you insist on being difficult, I'm sure a flogging could loosen your tongue." Halbard had no intention of beating her, but he did not have the time or desire to wait for her to become cooperative. A little fright on her part would serve his purpose better.

The she orc surprised him by chuckling darkly. "A  _flogging_  you say?" she smirked rakishly. "That's mighty white'a ya, makin' me feel so at home. You think them puny  _tark_  whips'a yers will make much of a scratch? I'd hate to go off with no show'a yer fine hospitality."

The magistrate huffed angrily through his nose. "I should have assumed an orc would be foul enough to find pleasure in such a thing," he said, annoyed. Halbard did not appreciate being made the fool. "I see Cadoc and Elador were not being truthful when they spoke of your innocence."

A troubled look passed over the orc's features and her posture lost the easy bravado she had been displaying thus far. "Hey," she barked, "you leave that lot outta this. They's just showin' me a kindness. Ain't no harm in that."

"You do not wish to make trouble for them?" the magistrate asked, surprised that an orc would show care for the fate of anyone aside from itself. The orcess shook her head to the negative, and Halbard felt a small surge of triumph. "Then you will answer my questions honestly. I am interested in justice, not revenge. Your race will have no bearing on the outcome."

The orcess scowled and raised her chained wrists between them. "I'm thinkin' my 'race' already has plenty a bearin' on things."

For a long, dumbfounded moment, the magistrate could only blink stupidly at her. Halbard considered himself an honorable man. From the moment he conceded to go through with this interrogation, he swore to himself that he would adhere to the words of wiser men, and afford the orc the same regard he would a man in her position. Now, he found himself justly chastised by her. In truth, up until this point he felt that he had treated the she orc no differently from any other prisoner, but he had captured her without cause and chained her like an animal. A slow, awful realization formed in his mind. How embarrassed she must have been, to be paraded through town like a freak of nature! If their positions were reversed, Halbard imagined he would be equally, if not more, defiant.

Coming to a decision, the magistrate rose from his seat and rounded the table. Fumbling a little with his keys, he took the orcess's chains and unlocked the manacles. The she orc rubbed her wrists and watched him return to his seat with an unreadable expression. The pair sat across from each other for a long while, each regarding the other.

"Do you understand why I brought you here?" the magistrate asked.

The orcess tilted her head curiously. "I'd guess the folk here caught wind a me and are gettin a bit restless about it."

The corner's of Halbard's mouth twitched with a smile. "I see your intelligence was not exaggerated," he said lightly. The magistrate became grim as he thought on the situation that brought the two of them to this point. "There has been a great deal of talk about you in the village. A number of families from Rohan and eastern Gondor have settled here in the years after The War, and a fair amount of them have been displaced by orcs. Despite the high regard Cadoc and his family have for you, and their respectable standing in this village, many people are calling for your blood."

"This...interview," Halbard continued, "is being conducted on their behalf. It is my job to maintain order here. All I ask is that you answer my questions honestly. If I decide that you are not a threat, I will calm the fears of the people who wish to do you harm, and assure  _your_  safety for the duration of your stay here. I assure you, anything you say to me will be spoken in confidence. Do we have an understanding?"

The orcess absorbed this information quietly. "I understand ya," she nodded.

"Now," Halbard folded his hands on the table with a steadying breath. "How about we start with your whereabouts during The War?"

The magistrate listened with rapt attention as the she orc – Rukhash, he reminded himself – told him of her war service. She described her armory work in Orthanc and her apprenticeship under the healer, Grazad, in Barad dûr. Rukhash told the magistrate about the trials of the women in the pits and the children they bore, and Halbard found himself feeling a grudging respect for what her people had to endure in their service to The Shadow. The orcess went on to explain her life afterwards. Halbard could hear the admiration in her voice when she spoke of her former chief, who took the clan she settled with deep into the Misty Mountains to avoid the wrath of men. She spoke of her mate, her  _shaûk_ , and their children. Her tone became dark as she told of their deaths at the hands of orc hunters. Though the she orc did not break into weeping, her sadness was written so clearly in her gruff voice that Halbard felt her sorrow as if it were his own. Finally, she came to tell him of her long years of solitude, which led to her discovery of an injured Cadoc.

"Thought about eatin' him," she said with a small, amused smile, and Halbard was surprised to find himself returning it. "Thought better of it, though, and now I'm glad I didn't. I haven't known a friendly face in so long, I near forgot what one looked like. His sis and her kin have been real good ta me. I wouldn't want anythin' happenin' to them on my account."

"So you have given up on seeking revenge for your family?" the magistrate asked, curious.

Rukhash worried her lip between her sharp teeth. The she orc took a deep breath. "If I ever come by them bastards what murdered my babies," she told him seriously, "they'll wish they'd never drew breath in the first place. I'd do to their flesh what they done to my heart." The orcess thumped her chest emphatically. "But I ain't got no quarrel with the folks here. The war were war an' we was all caught up in it. That I'd already let go."

Halbard was silent for a long while. "Thank you, Rukhash," he said. "I appreciate your honesty. You have given me more to think on than I thought you would, but I believe I am ready to pass judgement..."

* * *

A better portion of the crowd outside had dispersed, but those assembled stood in hushed attention. All that remained were about two dozen curious parties and a group of men who were personally invested in the magistrate's decision. They were all former orc hunters, most of whom Cadoc recognized , most likely hoping to acquire her head after her execution. There were still a few neighboring provinces that rewarded such a trophy. Baladnor was among the men, looking as bedraggled and quarrelsome as Cadoc remembered him. Ingrid's husband glared at Cadoc and his family with an unabashed loathing. Cadoc was pleased to note that Edda – and, surprisingly, Morwen – matched the ferocity of his expression.

 _You are more like your mother each day, little niece_ , Cadoc though fondly, despite his gnawing unease.

The ranger was deeply concerned for Rukhash. Hedon was told to wait outside with the rest of them, and Cadoc did not like that his only reliable link to the orcess in this situation was as impotent as the rest of them. It would be up to Rukhash to charm her way out of the courthouse. Cadoc had a great deal of faith in the innocence of her intentions and her sense of honor, but she was especially disagreeable as of late, and a sharp tongue wouldn't do much for her case.

A sick feeling filled Cadoc as the stately courthouse doors swung open. Magistrate Halbard exited first, his long, dark robes in contrast to his silver hair. Cadoc felt bolstered by the calm about the man, but he was concerned that Rukhash was nowhere in sight.

"I have made my decision regarding the orc," Halbard's booming voice called out. The magistrate stopped short, and turned around to motion for someone behind him to step forward. Rukhash emerged, unchained and looking considerably cleaner, and came to stand sheepishly at the magistrate's side. Cadoc released a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"This she orc," Halbard motioned towards Rukhash, "is of no danger to this village. Henceforth, I will tolerate no more talk of vigilante justice ." A hushed murmur rose up from the crowd.

"Furthermore," Halbard continued, "I have found no evidence suggesting any sign of witchery on the orc's part," at this statement, the magistrate cast a baleful eye towards Baladnor. "So long as she obeys our laws, she will be welcome to stay. Any that would raise a hand in violence against her, or any family that harbors her, will be punished to the full extent of the law."

"There's no law against killing orcs!" Baladnor shouted, and several of the men with him rumbled in agreement.

The magistrate fixed Baladnor with a dark look. "In this case, I am making an exception. I am an extension of the king's hand, and  _I_  say anyone who slays this orc without lawful cause for doing so will be charged with murder. Anyone who wishes to challenge this decision has my leave to travel to Minas Tirith and take the matter up with King Aragorn, himself!"

There was a discontent grumbling at the magistrate's words, and most of the crowd dispersed unhappily, whispering amongst themselves at this strange turn of events. The few that remained looked on with piqued curiosity as Halbard led the orcess down the courthouse steps towards Cadoc and his family. Cadoc wanted to embrace her, and it took all of his willpower to remain standing resolutely next to his sister as the orcess approached. Morwen scandalized the townspeople in Cadoc's stead, and rushed forward to wrap her arms around the orcess tightly. Rukhash bore her attentions stoically, lightly patting Morwen's back as the girl wept, relieved, into her matted hair . Halbard looked on amused as he stepped forward to address Cadoc and Hedon.

If Cadoc didn't know better, he would have thought Halbard looked repentant as he stood before the two rangers. "I will admit," the magistrate said, "I did not believe much of what you told me about her, but now that I have met her, I see that you did not exaggerate ." Halbard looked over his shoulder to the reunion behind him. Edda's face was dry but she was smiling brightly as the orcess ruffled Wulf's hair. "Aside from her coarse language and... obvious differences," the magistrate continued, "she is quite similar to an ordinary woman."

Cadoc wasn't sure that he would ever describe the orcess as "ordinary," but he nodded anyway, glad for the magistrate's decision.

"You have extended a great boon to her," Hedon interjected, "by allowing her the protection of the law."

"Justice does not know boundaries of race or creed," the magistrate said magnanimously. "Nor does pain or sorrow. If your orc friend can know the latter than she should be afforded the former. Her story is, indeed, sad," Halbard quietly addressed Cadoc directly, "I see why you have extended her your sympathies and your home to her."

Cadoc felt more than pity towards Rukhash, but he, again, nodded silently. Better to hash out the complexities of his feelings in private. "I appreciate your just decision," Cadoc said respectfully.

Beyond Halbard, Cadoc noticed the disgusted expression of Baladnor and his comrades as the walked off. The ranger firmed his jaw resolutely. The former orc hunter was obviously displeased with the magistrate's ruling. Cadoc glared darkly at Baladnor's retreating back, determined to keep his vigilance, and not allow this fortuitous turn of events to make him careless. If trouble did arise for Rukhash during her stay, Cadoc knew where it would originate.

* * *

Edda lavished an extraordinary amount of attention on the Rukhash once they returned home, and Cadoc wondered if the orcess would lose her temper with his sister. Rukhash was not overly fond of pampering, and on a few occasions she shooed the overbearing woman away, complaining that she wanted a few moments of peace.

Now washed and fed and left to their own devices, Cadoc and Rukhash occupied themselves in the cottage, enjoying an evening's respite after an eventful day. Cadoc sat on the sofa, quietly reading one of the books his sister left him. He was dully aware of Rukhash's activities in the kitchen. The orcess splashed in a bowl of water as she tried to scrub dried blood from the light brown fur sleeves she'd worn this morning. She was mumbling curses to herself, obviously not making much progress. Cadoc found himself smiling as he listened to her familiar grumbling. His chest clenched painfully with the thought that he was very close to never hearing her complaints again.

Rukhash came to hang her sleeves to dry by a hook near the hearth. She tilted her head curiously at the ranger as she watched him stare intently at a book on his lap. The orcess flopped next to him on the couch and leaned over his shoulder to stare down at the page he was reading. "What's all this," she said, wrinkling her nose.

Cadoc turned to find her face mere inches from his own. Her eyes were bright and focused on the book in his lap. Cadoc smiled at her inquisitiveness. "This," he said, lifting the book slightly, "is the tale of the great mariner Eärendil."

Rukhash frowned at him. "Who's that, then?"

Cadoc went into a lengthy explanation that involved  _golug_  and half  _golug_  and ships that were stars and dark forces vanquished. Wrinkling her nose, the orcess looked from Cadoc to the page of squiggles. "And it says all that in there?" she asked, confused.

"There are other stories as well," Cadoc told her.

Rukhash squinted as if she thought she might will the letters to make sense. "Never was much fer readin'," the orcess rumbled. "There any pictures in there? I like them sorts a things."

Cadoc obligingly leafed through the pages until he came upon an engraving of Eärendil slaying Ancalagon the Black, a great winged dragon that roared menacingly over the shimmering ship Vingilótë. Rukhash leaned forward with wide eyes, and traced her claw against the gaping maw of the beast, wrought in delicate, thin lines. A small, entranced smile played across her face. Cadoc never realized that she had an interest in such things, and the ranger made a mental note to acquire one of Edda's picture books for the orcess to look at.

"He looks like a right nasty fucker," the orcess purred as she ran her finger along the dragon's tail. Rukhash had tucked herself against Cadoc, leaning comfortably on his shoulder. The ranger swallowed thickly when he noticed the contour of her hip press against his own. Rukhash's breath became slow and deep, and Cadoc became aware of a subtle scent coming from her skin. It smelled almost like cloves, but earthier and mixed with her own, natural smell.

"Did Edda force some bath oils on you?" Cadoc asked, unnerved by the warmth that began to settle in his gut. The orcess regarded him with dark, hooded eyes, her nostrils flaring. Cadoc nearly jumped from his skin when the orcess tilted her head back to run her rough, textured tongue along the length of his jaw, a steady purr forming in her throat. "Rukhash?" Cadoc blurted out, both alarmed and slightly aroused by the sensation of her sharp teeth scraping against the pulse at his neck.

The orcess jumped back against the opposite arm of the sofa, and Cadoc felt strangely cold by her sudden absence. She was staring at him, horrified, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Cadoc felt as though he was rooted to his seat. Rukhash seemed completely caught off guard by her actions, and the ranger shared the sentiment.

"I..." the orcess trailed off hoarsely, and jumped from the sofa to rush out the front door. Completely baffled by her actions – and his own desire – Cadoc snatched his crutch from where it leaned against the sofa and followed her outside. For a moment, Cadoc feared that she had run off, but Rukhash was sitting cross legged on the small porch, staring blankly into the inky night. In the meager light cast outside, Cadoc could see wisps of steam rising off her dark skin.

Rukhash looked up at the ranger with a mortified expression. "Sorry," she said lamely. "I'm sorry, I didn't think it'd be this bad 'round you."

Cadoc hobbled forward, and leaned on his crutch as he struggled to kneel next to her. It was freezing outside, but when he laid his hand on the orcess's shoulder, he found her skin was unbearably hot. "What are you talking about?" he asked her.

"Yer not an orc," she told him ambiguously. "I didn't think the heat would hit me so hard with you bein' here. If I thought it would, I'da left for a bit 'til it passed." Rukhash covered her face with her clawed hands.

Cadoc still wasn't completely clear on the situation, but the orcess was beginning to shiver in the night chill, and he worried for her health. "You should come inside," he told her.

Rukhash shook her head, looking miserable. "Give me a bit," she said. "Let me cool off a little."

"You're shivering," Cadoc insisted.

"I ain't  _cold_  you idiot!" the orcess barked, leaning away from his touch. "I'm fucking  _horny_  you blind bastard. Everythin' in me wants to  _mate_. You fucking understand what I'm sayin'?" The orcess was growling now, annoyed with his stubbornness.

Cadoc leaned back, shocked. "Do you have any control over this?"

Rukhash rolled her eyes, annoyed. "It ain't a damn switch I can turn off, but I'm ain't a slave to my instincts. It's a strong urge, is all. With you bein' a  _tark_ , I didn't think I'd be much different than when I was alone. That weren't so bad, with no one available to me it passed sorta quiet."

"I just gotta suffer through it," the orcess continued with an enduring sigh. "I done it before, when me an' Anba decided to wait a bit between our whelps 'cause the huntin' weren't so good. The last bit is the worst of it, but it should pass soon."

Cadoc was at a loss. "Is there anything I can do?"

Rukhash's gaze roamed over him hungrily, but she seemed to snap herself out of it when she recognized his unease. "I ain't a fucking mindless animal," she assured him. "You can boil some water fer me if you want to be useful. I'll make myself a draught to help me sleep through it. Should be fine by mornin'. The last hours are the nastiest bit to get through."

Cadoc nodded quietly and left her outside. He watched the teapot vigilantly as it boiled, vaguely aware of Rukhash entering the cottage and walking into the kitchen. The orcess shuffled through her containers, and retrieved a small pot containing a greenish white powder. The teapot began to whistle and Cadoc set it next to the mixture she had prepared for herself.

The orcess poured the water into her mug, and paused as she swirled the cup gingerly, mixing her potion. Rukhash looked up at him warily, and regarded his perplexed face for a long minute. "Don't get cute while I'm passed out," she warned him. "I'll be real pissed if I wake up pregnant."

Cadoc nearly choked on his insult. "I can't believe you would even say such a thing to me," he replied, aghast.

Rukhash snickered and patted his arm. "I'm just fuckin' with ya," she said lightly. Cadoc remained unamused. "Hey," she said, seriously, "I were just joking. I know you ain't that sort. I'd a never think to do this if you were."

"I don't understand your humor, sometimes," Cadoc admitted, still hurt by her comment.

"Sorry," the orcess apologized again. "Well," she said, raising her mug to him, " _Vrasubatburuk ug butharubatgruiuk,_ and down we go!" The orcess swallowed her potion in one gulp, licking her lips with a wrinkled, disgusted face. " _Gar_ , that shit's awful." She put the mug on the counter and retired to her room with a wave.

"Sleep well, Rukhash," Cadoc called after her.

* * *

Cadoc's dreams were filled with dark, lean bodies and bright yellow eyes. By morning, the ranger wished that Rukhash had made him a sleeping draught as well. He woke often during the night, panting into the darkness, and Cadoc wondered if he was not equally affected by the orcess's condition.

Rukhash rolled out of bed feeling better than she had in days. Without the distraction of her heat, her thoughts turned to her good fortune the day before and the magistrate's acceptance of her. She would have lawful protection now, something that anyone who wished her harm would be loathed to break. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she entered the main room with a spring in her step, barely aware of Cadoc's slumping posture as he sat on the stool at the kitchen counter.

" _Gar,_ " the orcess said when she noticed the dark bags under Cadoc's eyes. "You look fucking awful."

The ranger rubbed his face tiredly. "I did not sleep well," he admitted. Looking her over, he smiled wanly. "You seem in good spirits. Feeling better?"

"Plenty," the orcess said with a fanged smile. "Slept real late, though. You want I should make you breakfast?"

Cadoc blinked, surprised. "If you like," he said.

Rukhash seemed in good cheer as she milled about the kitchen, humming tunelessly. Edda had left a large portion of smoked ham, and Rukhash sliced the pork into thick pieces as she heated a skillet on the stove. The orcess also prepared Cadoc's medicine, dolling a number of unrecognizable ingredients into the small copper pot. Cadoc thought, briefly, to ask her what they were, but decided against it. He found he enjoyed watching the easy way she went about their breakfast, plucking bread and cheese out of their familiar places as though she had lived here all her life, all the while returning to stir the medicine brewing on the stove. Cadoc felt a familiar warmth fill him as he observed her. He found it unsettling, how quickly they fell into a comfortable, domestic rhythm.

 _She is not a woman_ , Cadoc reminded himself as he watched the orcess flip the ham.  _Nothing can come of this depraved desire you feel for her._

Rukhash made him a large plate of meat and cheese and bread, setting his medicine bowl next to his breakfast. Her own plate, set alongside his, lacked the cheese and bread, and her portion of ham remained uncooked. Cadoc regarded the differences in their breakfasts gloomily.

Rukhash sidled onto the stool next to his and took a large bite out of a hunk of cold pork. Chewing loudly, she leaned over and frowned, catching sight of his glum expression. "You all right?" she said after she swallowed her mouthful.

Cadoc poked listlessly at the cheese on his plate. "I'm fine," he sighed. "I just didn't sleep well."

Rukhash digested that information in silence. "Stunk up the place, did I?" she asked at last. "Sorry 'bout that. Didn't know it would bugger you too."

"So, how often does this happen?" Cadoc sighed. If this would be a common occurrence, Cadoc wanted to be prepared.

Rukhash patted him reassuringly on the back. "Don't worry," she soothed, "it only comes around three times a year. Shouldn't trouble me again 'til mid spring. We'll be at Mordor by then, you think?"

Cadoc nodded absently. Their journey to Mordor still seemed a long way off in his mind, but he found himself less enthusiastic about the prospect than he had been. Once Rukhash went back to her people, he would never see her again. Cadoc chewed his bread thoughtfully. He should want her to be happy, and Cadoc knew she would be happier among other orcs as opposed to a village full people who distrusted and loathed her. Cadoc stopped chewing, startled by his train of thought. Why was he considering her life if she stayed?

 _I am still affected by...whatever she did to me last night_ , he thought uneasily.  _We can not go on forever living in Edda's spare cottage._

"Cadoc?" Rukhash was leaning towards him, baffled by his troubled silence.

Blinking, Cadoc gave himself a mental shake. "Oh," he stammered. "I suppose. I'm not entirely sure, since I've yet to plan our route."

Rukhash leaned back and propped her head on her hand. She stared at him in lengthy silence. Her gaze seemed to bore straight into his soul, and Cadoc wondered if she could sense his troubling thoughts.

The soft, morning light struck her features in a particularly attractive way, and Cadoc found his unwanted desire for her returning. Rukhash's nostrils flared briefly, and a determined look passed over her face.

"You know," she said at last, "I had a lotta time to think while I was cleanin' up my cave. I'm sorta soft on you, I realize that. Wouldn'tve been all over you last night if I weren't."

Cadoc felt a little shocked by her sudden admission. Could she tell that he had been troubled by similar realizations? Cadoc took her free hand in his. "I feel a great affection for you as well," he admitted, both to her and himself, and felt a kind of relief in saying it out loud.

Rukhash gave his hand a little squeeze before pulling from his grasp and turning to stare out the window. "It ain't good fer either of us in the long run," she told him seriously. "Folk here'd tolerate me, I think, but it wouldn't be like if I were part of a tribe. A healer got status in 'er own right, you know, apart from the cheif and warriors. I weren't the strongest or the toughest girl in my clan, but they all respected my status. I were an important part'a things there."

"Wouldn't have that here," she said, turning towards him. "I'd always be off to the side of things. Even if I'd managed to win a few folks over, there'd still be others what were scared'a me. Asides, I don't think I wanna go through my whole life playin' like I were one'a yer Women. Don't think that would mean much to folks anyhow. An' I don't think they'd look too well on you if we started carryin' on an' they found out 'bout it... About us."

Cadoc nodded silently, sensing there was more she wanted to say.

"It'd be different," she went on. "If I  _were_  one a yer women, or if you were an orc. I'd a jumped you last night and that woulda been that. I want ta be a mum again, Cadoc," Rukhash swallowed thickly, "but I couldn't do that here. Even if  _you_  were up fer it, I wouldn't want my kids looked at like they was monsters."

Cadoc sighed heavily. He had not thought so far ahead. He could barely admit that he cared for Rukhash in a way that exceeded friendship. The thought of children with her had never entered into an equation. Obviously, the orcess had been weighing her options.

Cadoc reached up and ran his hand along the nape of her neck. Rukhash's eyes fluttered shut as he squeezed her lightly. "So where does that leave us?" he asked, unsure of the answer himself.

A troubled look passed over her features. "I don't know," she said.

* * *

**Translations**

_Vrasubatburuk ug butharubatgruiuk_  (SV) We will kill all the men and sodomize all the women (The Orcish equivalent of 'cheers')


	15. Regards

**Splint  
Chapter 15 Regards**

**AN:** _This is the chapter that pushed us to an M rating._

_(There is a sidenote to Hrahragh, a character from Lauderdale's Treed and Orcbrat. He's not meant to be the same character (I think, timeline wise, that wouldn't work out anyway). But I have made many jokes as to the nigh unsayable nature of his name. BTW: You should read Treed and Orcbrat. They are two of the best orc-centric stories out there.)_

* * *

_"I want a divorce."_

_It was late fall, and Cadoc had recently returned from six long months of peacekeeping in Ithilien. It had been a rough season. Though a treaty had been struck with their leaders, less honorable Harad and Easterlings still rode across that land, alongside orcs or on their own, to sow damage. The Shadow had been vanquished five years prior, but many of its displaced minions still roamed freely. Much was left to be done to bring stability to eastern Gondor. Cadoc had been badly wounded that August, and nearly died before his fever broke and he was able to travel home. Now, he sat in the small kitchen of the house he had built for his wife of eleven summers. Holgar was somewhere outside, crowing over the tin sword Cadoc had brought home for him._

_Cadoc looked up from his mug of tea. Ingrid was standing across the table from him, wrapping a cotton towel around and around her white knuckled fists. For a moment, he thought he misheard her. "What?" he asked._

_"I want a divorce," Ingrid repeated as she wrung the dishcloth in her hands._

_Dazedly, Cadoc rose from his seat, staring at his wife as if he had never seen her before. He made a move to reach for her, but Ingrid whirled away to pull a stack of neatly folded papers from the drawer. She laid them purposefully on the table in front of him. He glared from the divorce contract to his wife. Ingrid's eyes were steady and dry, her mouth drawn in a firm, determined line._

_"Why?" Cadoc gasped. He had never felt so betrayed in all his life. How long had she been planning this? Was she dividing their possessions even as he lay near death in a healer's tent in Ithilien?_

_"I cannot live my whole life," Ingrid told him in a clear, unwavering voice, "staring out the window, waiting for the day to come when you never return. It is a half life, Cadoc."_

_Cadoc had no idea what to say to that. "I have vowed to serve Gondor..." he began._

_Ingrid scurged forward to stand toe to toe with him, her green eyes flashing. "You have vowed to serve as my husband!" she shouted, her face twisted with anger. "Your heart cannot be in two places, Cadoc. It cannot serve both Gondor and your family. What of your son, who barely knows you? What of your wife, who waits alone for you? What of us?"_

_Cadoc fumbled with his words. "The Shadow..." he stammered._

_"The Shadow is gone!" Ingrid was nearly screaming now, and Cadoc worried Holgar would overhear them. "The forces of Mordor are defeated. What remains? A few scattered bandits? Why can't you leave what is left to younger men, who do not have families to look after? Why must you see to everything yourself?"_

_"What would you have me do?" Cadoc asked her, his own temper flaring now. He expected her to understand his responsibilities. "Should I abandon my post? My king? I did not hide my profession from you when I asked you to be my wife, Ingrid. Why the sudden change in you?"_

_"It isn't_ sudden _," Ingrid hissed. She turned away from him, and Cadoc watched her shoulders shake with silent weeping. He wanted to embrace her, but anger and grief kept him firmly rooted. Cadoc tried to think back on the last time he had seen her, nearly six months earlier. She had asked him to delay his journey, to remain a little longer with her and their son, but he would not be moved. When they parted ways, there was an expression like mourning on her face. Had that been his last chance with her?_

_"You would not abandon your King," Ingrid sobbed, "but you have abandoned your wife already. I have been patient with you all these years, through the terror of the War and after, but I cannot go on in this fashion."_

_Ingrid turned towards him, and placed her hand gingerly on the papers in front of him. "I want my freedom, Cadoc. If you love me, you will give me that much."_

_He did not acquiesce that morning. Over a week passed before Ingrid was able to compel him to agree to a divorce. In the end, Cadoc realized she was right, and he did love her. He wanted Ingrid to be happy, and if she could not be happy with him, then he had no choice but to grant her request. It was a cold feeling, signing those papers. Every stroke of his signature felt as though a part of his life was draining out of him._

_Holgar didn't understand at the time, why his father had to leave them again to stay with his Aunt Edda. It was the beginning of the rift between Cadoc and his son, and he could only blame himself for it. In those first few months, he could not bring himself to visit. The pain was just too great. That spring, Cadoc rode out early, after word reached him of Ingrid's marriage to Baladnor._

_Cadoc had been furious. To discover such infidelity, when he had remained steadfast towards_ her _, had him seeing red. But this left Holgar to wait on his father for another eight months, and that was more than enough. When he returned, he found a son that barely acknowledged him, who had become close with his stepfather in the absence of his father. Seeing the affection growing between Baladnor and his son was like having his heart torn asunder. He felt defeated and more betrayed than when Ingrid had thrown a divorce contract before him. Cadoc returned to Ithilien, and spent the entirety of the year there._

_He understood why Holgar would not write. Cadoc was absent for a pivotal time in Holgar's life, a part he should have been present for, but pride kept him away, and then, from mending things between them. It was years before he attempted to write letters of apology; not until after Baladnor's injury, when Holgar was in Minas Tirith._

_Cadoc often wondered if there was anything left between them to mend at all._

* * *

Rukhash entered the cottage after a long morning of digging out Elador's many barns and holdings. Another snow had passed through, and Rukhash wanted to make herself useful if she was going to stay. Elador's livestock didn't like her anywhere near them, so she now found herself at a loss. Cadoc was sitting on the sofa, idly smoking his pipe, a somber look about him. In the past four days, they had not spoken further on the matter of their feelings and what that meant for their relationship. Cadoc seemed willing to avoid the topic altogether, and Rukhash didn't want to press it. She was concerned that she had said too much already.

Cadoc had not turned a cold shoulder to her. In fact, she would consider his behavior to be opposite. He seemed more than willing to touch her at any opportunity. A light brush of the fingers, a gentle caress along her neck, but nothing more than that. She didn't know what to make of him at the moment. Orcs were not known for subtlety, and Rukhash felt as though she were treading through uncharted waters.

Right now she was too hungry to worry about him anyway. The orcess went straight away to the kitchen, not bothering to shed her cloak, and made to fix herself some lunch. Edda kept sneaking food into the cupboards, and Rukhash had caught whiff of aged beef when Cadoc's sister had delivered supplies this morning. Rukhash sliced herself off a generous portion and wolfed it down in short order. She was sweaty and dirty and wanted to wash up and change. Perhaps she would wear the light blue dress today. Cadoc told her that it brought out her eyes. She had never given her wardrobe much thought, but the old dresses that Edda lent her were just as soft and warm as her own furs and leathers. Besides, Rukhash like the way Cadoc looked at her when she wore them.

She emerged from her bedroom to find Cadoc in the exact place he had been when she entered. His distant look worried her, but Rukhash was not in the habit of prying. His attention seemed to be in another place since her heat broke, and they made their awkward confessions. She assumed he was sorting things out, and she was doing the same. While a physical relationship with Cadoc was appealing on a visceral level, she wasn't quite sure where that would leave them afterwards. If Cadoc was an orc, they would have their fun and go their separate ways when they were done. Gentle feelings did not equal a permanent commitment. Rukhash liked Cadoc, but she was not willing to give up a life among her people for him. She could not masquerade as a  _tark_ woman forever.

Gathering up the skein of yarn and crochet hook Guthwen lent her, the orcess thought she would take her mind off things and practice the simple stitches she had learned from Cadoc's mother. There wasn't much work for her to do, and the orcess wanted something to keep her hands busy. She worked at her knitting, grumbling when she dropped a stitch or when the hook would catch on the wrong row. Rukhash was not exactly sure what she was making, but she enjoyed learning new skills, and this particular skill was not so different from tying nets. It was hard to know what would come in handy in the future, so she was determined to keep at it, even if she felt a little awkward at the moment. The easy, graceful way Guthwen went about crocheting gave the orcess hope that all she needed was a little practice.

Cadoc's moping faded into the background while she worked, though Rukhash slowly realized that he hadn't said a word in the hour since she returned. Looking up from the unintelligible knot of yarn in her lap, she realized that his disposition had not changed.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

Cadoc glanced at her briefly, the long stem of his pipe caught in his teeth. The light from the hearth cast dark shadows on his features. "Not at all," he told her.

Rukhash worried her lip. She didn't need a heightened sense of smell to pick out this particular lie. "Yer lookin' real thoughtful 'bout somethin'. Wanna hash it out? I don't mind listnin' if you need an ear." Cadoc smiled wanly and reached over to rub his thumb along the curve of her ear. A part of her cried unfair. That has always been a particular soft spot for her, and she nearly forgot what she was talking about.

"Would an orc leave its mate?" he asked her suddenly.

Rukhash blinked at him. That seemed like an odd question to come out and ask someone. "Well..." she said carefully. "That depends, I'd guess."

"On what," Cadoc asked, withdrawing his hand and facing her directly.

Rukhash shifted in her seat, and drew her legs underneath her, frowning thoughtfully. "I s'pose it'd hinge on lotsa things. I ain't never heard of two  _shaûk_ leavin' each other, 'nless one of 'em died, but I know plenty a pairs what had whelps together an' went separate ways after. In the pits there weren't such things as  _shaûk_  at all, even."

Cadoc digested that for a moment. "So there is a difference between a  _mate_  and a  _shaûk_?"

Rukhash snorted. "'Course there is," she said as if Cadoc should have known better. "A mate's someone you'd whelp with. Like my dad an' my mum. My dad weren't lookin' for more'n a tumble with my mum. I just sorta happened 'cause of it. He made sure I were looked after 'cause I were his daughter, but he wouldn't a stuck his neck out fer my mum, and she wouldn't a done that fer him neither. Liked each other well enough, I'd guess, but not the same as mum and Kragolnauk liked each other. He'd a tore out his heart fer her, if he had to."

"So, a  _shaûk_ is similar to a spouse?" Cadoc guessed.

"Well," Rukhash said, biting her lip, "not really. A mate don't got to be your  _shaûk_  and a  _shaûk_  don't got to be yer mate."

"I'm confused," Cadoc admitted.

Rukhash tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Okay," she said at last, looking inspired. "It's like Lagluf and Akbrog, they was both  _shaûk,_ but they could'a never been mates."

"Why not?" Cadoc felt more baffled by the second.

" _Gar,_ " Rukhash rumbled, "'cause they was both  _lads_. Woulda been somethin' if they pulled  _that_  off, but Akbrog an' Shapag had a girl together, so them's two were mates. Make sense?"

"Not even a little," Cadoc told her honestly.

"A  _shaûk_ is like someone who's got yer back, who's with ya 'til the bitter end of it. A mate's just someone you've whelped with. There's some responsibility there, but nothin' permanent." Rukhash looked pleased with her explanation.

Cadoc thought it all seemed far too complicated. "I'm not sure any of that answers my question," he told her.

"'Course it does!" Rukhash said, throwing her hands in the air. "You asked me if an orc would leave its mate. If the two of 'em are  _shaûk_ , then no, but if they's just in it fer a kid, then maybe yes an' maybe no. It's depend on the pair and what they'd settled on."

Cadoc absorbed this information quietly. "What you are saying," he said slowly, "is that fidelity is not important to your people. If someone can have both a mate and a  _shaûk_."

Rukhash tilted her head to the side, considering his statement. Rukhash had never associated sex and affection. Nor had she ever heard of two orcs that were exclusive to one another. "Well," she replied, "I guess it ain't. Me and Anba, we was both, but he still fucked around with the other girls in our clan and I had a roll or two with the other lads, and some a the girls also, but that were all in good fun. When it came ta breedin' we stuck wit' each other."

Cadoc chose to ignore the brief mental image of Rukhash and another female orc. "And that didn't bother either of you?" he asked her. "It didn't hurt your feelings that he slept with other women?"

"If it had," Rukhash said, "I woulda told him and he wouldn't a done it, but I were just as randy as he was. In the end, it were my bed he slept in. We mighta had our fun around the cave, but we always come back to each other, 'cause that's where our hearts were." There was more to it than that, of course, but Rukhash wasn't sure she knew how to explain the deep connection between two orcs that were  _shaûk_. Her own people didn't even have a name for it. Softer feelings were not a popular topic of conversation, and especially not in any detail.

Cadoc didn't know what to say to that. He felt that this information should not surprise him, but he could not help the unease he felt. Rukhash spoke of intimacy as though it barely mattered.

The orcess was a little annoyed by Cadoc's reaction. He looked completely affronted, and Rukhash didn't see why she should subject herself to his judgement in this matter. "Oi," she growled, "you asked. Don't get miffed at me fer tellin' you how it is. It might not be how your folk do things, but we was plenty happy with it."

"Why'd you bring it up anyway?" the orcess asked, suspicious. "You thinking a that wife a yers?"

"Ex wife," Cadoc corrected her.

"Whatever," Rukhash waved him off. "Is that's what got you so gloomy?"

Cadoc didn't answer her, and Rukhash found herself embracing him. Normally, it was Cadoc who reached out to her, but his somber mood was troubling. She rested her head on his shoulder, and though he stiffened at first, he reached around to hold her close. Rukhash closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, warm and familiar and sad.

"It don't bugger me, you know," the orcess said. "You thinkin' a her. I understand. I could tell, when I seen you two together, you've still got eyes fer her."

Cadoc rested his cheek on her dark head. "Do you ever miss him, your mate?"

Rukhash sighed heavily. "All the time," she admitted. "I miss Anba and our kids and the others, but I grieved 'em best I knew how an' then I had ta go on. They're dead an' I'm still here. That part a my life's done."

"I have many regrets," Cadoc said gruffly. "There is a part of me that will always care for Ingrid, but I have had to let her go. There are days that I wish I could have done things differently, both for her... and our son."

Rukhash nodded, understanding. "You can't keep looking back," she told him. "I done it fer a long time. I ain't sayin' you should forget it, I don't wanna ever forget my clan, but you've gotta look forward after a while, or you'll just be standin' still yer whole life."

Rukhash felt him smile against her crown. "Is that orcish wisdom?" he asked in a lighter tone.

" _Gar,_ " the orcess growled. "Not likely. Just somethin' I realized on my own. Not havin' folks around gives ya plenty a time to think on things." Rukhash lifted her head from Cadoc's shoulder, and smirked mischievously. "Orcish wisdom'd be more like  _Mirdautas vras_."

Cadoc raised a brow. "What does  _that_  mean?"

The orcess laughed and pressed herself a little closer to him. "Somethin' like, 'it's a good day fer killin','" she answered.

Cadoc chuckled and shook his head reprovingly. "I suppose that makes sense," he said. "Yours is a strange people, my friend." Cadoc leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. "Thank you," he said.

"Don't like seein' you so down," the orcess admitted. "You're usually cheerin' me up. Thought I'd try an' do the same."

Rukhash was startled as Cadoc pressed his lips chastely against hers, lingering far longer than what might be considered friendly. When he finally drew away, a soft look in his eyes, the orcess licked her lips nervously. Rukhash felt her whole face go hot, and fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable with their cozy seating arrangement. It felt off. His mind was on Ingrid just a few moments ago. Casual relations were one thing, but she wouldn't take the place of another female in his mind, even if Cadoc was not making that connection purposefully.

"Ah," she stammered, gently pushing away from him. "Thought I'd see if yer sis needed any help wit' the house. You know, make myself useful an' all. You'll be all right here without me?"

Cadoc seemed taken aback. "Oh," he said. "Yes, I'll be fine. I still have my book to finish."

"That leg was looking good yesterday," the orcess said lightly. "Maybe tonight we'll see if you can't put a little weight on it? Think yer just about there." She didn't want him to see her departure as a kind of rejection. Hopefully, knowing his recovery was going apace would keep him in good spirits.

Much to her relief, Cadoc's whole mood brightened immediately. "That is good news," he said. "I will admit I grow tired of this crutch."

"Well," the orcess said with a stern look, "don't get too cheery 'bout it. You'll need a cane for a bit, most likely." Rukhash shrugged on her fur cloak, but paused at the door. "Sure you don't need nothin'?" she asked.

Cadoc nodded towards her obligingly. "I'll be fine," he said. "I'm sure Edda will appreciate any help you could give her."

* * *

Edda was beside herself. Four of the most infuriating women in the village had alighted on her dining room. Things had been quiet for Edda and her family since the magistrate's ruling, but she knew that could not possibly go on forever. Perhaps things would have been different if she and Elador were still poor. Certainly, no one would give a care what a family of poor farmers were about, but Elador's wealth gave them status. Unfortunately, that status came with drawbacks. Specifically, prim nosed busy bodies.

Bruith and Gernil were hovering over Hallas, cooing and carrying on, while Cûngwend and her sister Raegiel meandered through Edda's house, eyeing the fine craftsmanship of her carved moulding. Edda didn't have to guess why they were here. No doubt the four of them were eager to catch sight of Rukhash. Edda had no intention of parading her orc guest around like an exotic pet. Hopefully, she was keeping herself occupied with chores around the farm or helping Cadoc in the cottage. Edda didn't want to consider how Rukhash would react to these four, over-privileged women.

"Just tell them to be off," Guthwen hissed as she brought an empty plate of sweet cakes into the kitchen. "What you do in your own home is none of their business!"

"I can't be rude, ma," Edda whispered back. "Elador does business with their husbands! We have to play the proper hostesses and hope they leave soon."

Guthwen looked over her shoulder, making sure their guests were not listening in. "You know they will not leave until they've had a look at her," Guthwen told her daughter frankly. "They're too nosey."

"Oh, Edda!" Bruith's high falsetto boomed from the adjacent room. "Your poor boy has spit up."

Rubbing her temples, Edda balled her apron and tossed it on to the kitchen table. "Can you see to the tea, ma?" she asked her mother wearily. Not waiting for her mother's answer, Edda strode into the dining room.

Bruith was holding Hallas out as though he were a dangerous animal. A sticky line of milky spittle hung from his mouth, and the boy was beginning to fuss uncomfortably. Edda snatched her youngest from the older woman, setting him on her shoulder as she wiped his mouth with a spare dishrag.

"I never did care for this age," Cûngwend said evenly. "They're so messy."

Edda took a calming breath and brought Hallas into the kitchen where his spare bassinet was set up near the table. The extra crib made it easier for her to keep an eye on him while she worked, and now she was glad it was here. She would rather not have her son caught in the middle of her surprise company.

Guthwen served tea and more cakes while Edda settled Hallas. The four ladies sat gingerly at the table, and Guthwen found herself obliged to join them. The older woman silently wondered where her eldest two grandchildren were.

_Hiding in the hay barn if they know what's good for them,_ Guthwen thought with a little smile.

Guthwen never had to trouble herself with high born women before Elador's success. As the wife of a ranger, she had lived happily and humbly, enjoying the company of friends with simple tastes and straightforward talk. Now Guthwen found herself caught up in the kind of gossipy here say that she would have abhorred in her younger years.

Bruith, her black hair drawn up in a disconcerting confection of too many curls and pins prattled on mindlessly about topics Guthwen never cared about. Looking like a strung sausage, Gernil sat beside her nodding as if Bruith were imparting sage wisdom. Raegiel and Cûngwend had the same, too slender face. Both covered their ashy blonde hair with dark blue veils. A common fashion in the East, but Guthwen thought it made them look like a pair of widows. Guthwen felt a part of her brain go numb as the band of them jabbered.

With Halls settled, Edda sat down next to her mother, who seemed to have ventured to a far off place in her mind. Raegiel was discussing her husband's forays into new territory in South Ithilien, keeping most of the table's attention. All except for Bruith, who was eyeing Edda across the table like a hawk would a rabbit.

"So," Bruith interrupted, "tell us, Eddawen. Where is your orc?"

Edda nearly choked on her tea. She honestly didn't think any of them would come out and say it like that! All four of her guests were staring intently at Edda, and she shifted in her seat nervously. "Rukhash is probably still out helping Elador dig out the barns," Edda said, her eyes darting to the sharp eyed faces around her.

"You trust that creature around your husband?" Cûngwend said disapprovingly.

"I can't believe you trust it around your children!" Raegiel exclaimed.

From the corner of her eye, Edda caught her mother straighten in her seat. Guthwen's mouth opened in what Edda assumed would be an indelicate retort. "Rukhash has given us no cause to distrust her," Edda said lightly, beating her mother to the punch. "Didn't you hear? Magistrate Halbard has given her protection under the law."

"The whole village has heard," Bruith said, as though it were a great conspiracy. "I would love to know what that orc told him that..." Bruith trailed off suddenly, her face paling. From behind her, Edda heard a series of rumbling purrs from the kitchen followed by an amused laugh from Hallas. Biting back a smile, Edda turned to see Rukhash at the far end of the kitchen, leaning over Hallas' bassinet.

"Who's a happy lil blighter?" the orcess cooed, tickling lightly at Hallas' belly with a clawed finger. " _Gar_ , sis," Rukhash said, straightening and looking at Edda. "He stinks. You want I should give 'im a change while you sit wit' your company?"

Edda glanced cautiously back towards her guests, and found that she was pleased with their horrified expressions. She wondered how much of their conversation Rukhash had overheard. "Do you mind?" she asked the orcess lightly. "His diapers are on the changing table in his room."

"Not an issue," Rukhash confirmed as she lifted Hallas into her arms. "Come on, lil blighter," she crooned at the baby as she rounded the dining room table and walked towards the bedrooms. "Can't have you stinkin' like a troll's wet arsehole."

Edda turned back to face Bruith. The woman looked thoroughly awestruck.  _It serves you right_ , Edda thought.  _Making assumptions about things you don't know anything about._

"So," Guthwen said lightly. "Raegiel, you were telling us about those new silks your husband is trading in..."

Raegiel stammered as she continued her interrupted description of foreign textiles. Bruith kept looking towards the doorway Rukhash had disappeared through, thoroughly distracted. Edda nodded politely towards Raegiel, urging her to continue. The whole room seemed to hold a breath while the orcess was absent, left alone with Edda's infant son. Edda was not concerned for Hallas. He adored the orcess and she him. If anything, Rukhash had a very motherly way about her, even if Edda had to keep correcting her language around the children. The orcess had the mouth of a hardened soldier.

With a freshly changed Hallas in her arms, Rukhash strode into the dining room and plopped gracelessly next to Edda at the table, tucking the boy into the crook of her elbow so he could face outwards. A collective exhale erupted from her guests. "So," the orcess said conversationally, glancing around the table. "Who've we got here?"

Edda rattled off the women's names, pointing to each. "This is Gernil and Bruith, Raegiel and Cûngwend. Their husbands are merchants, and do business with Elador."

Rukhash nodded to the women. "Nice to meet ya," the orcess addressed their slack jawed faces. "I'm Rukhash."

Looking at her orc friend, Edda wondered how these women saw her. Rukhash's hair was washed and brushed and pulled back in a leather tie, and she was wearing the powder blue dress Edda had lent her. In Edda's opinion, she looked quite domestic, nothing like the disconcerting vision of the orcess covered in blood, roaring at a crowd of villagers.

Bruith was the first to compose herself. Sitting up a little taller, she smiled toothily. "It is very...nice to meet you, Rukish, is it?"

"Rukhash," the orcess corrected. " _Rukh-ash_. Trust me, it ain't that fuckin' hard."

Bruith swallowed thickly. "Excuse me?" she said, aghast.

"Oh, Rukhash," Edda gently chided. "Please... language around the baby."

"Sorry sis," she apologized automatically, her yellow eyes round and innocent. Then, she turned to scowl at Bruith. "Said my name ain't that hard ta say. Knew a nasty lad named Hrahragh back in Orthanc. Took me a week to say his name straight, and it's my own tongue. 'Course," she added with a thoughtful look, "I were just a mite at the time."

"But bigger'n you, lil' blighter," the orcess chirped at Hallas and shook him gently. The baby smiled gummily and cooed at the funny voice she was making. Bruith was gaping at the orcess's audacity, and Edda wondered if the woman had ever been corrected in all her life.

"Ah, Rukhash," Edda politely interjected. "Would you like a sweet cake? They're freshly baked."

The orcess wrinkled her nose and lifted a fussing Hallas to her shoulder. "Not much for sweets, Edda," Rukhash told her as she rubbed slow circles on the baby's back. "'Sides, I just had my lunch. I come by ta see if you needed any help 'round the house. Think I near scared yer cows to death this mornin'. Elador said he'd rather I'm not in the barn if I can help it, and there's not much ta do outside'a it."

"I'm afraid this is an easy time of year for us," Edda said apologetically.

"Well," the orcess announced, rising to her feet. "Guess I'll go see ta Cadoc's leg then." Rukhash passed Hallas to Edda's waiting arms, and tilted her head towards the gaggle of women at the table. "Nice meetin' ya."

Rukhash left as quickly and quietly as she had come. Hallas began to doze in Edda's shoulder as she regarded Bruith across the table. "Yes," she addressed the women in front of her, "I trust her around my children, _completely_."

* * *

"Be easy 'bout it!" Rukhash barked as she kneeled next to Cadoc's shin, feeling the bone gingerly.

The splint was off, and Cadoc braced himself against the crutch as he put gentle weight on his injured leg. Rukhash wouldn't let him lean more than a little at a time, checking to make sure the bone wasn't shifting. Cadoc was doing his best to concentrate on what he was doing, but he was finding her gentle touch distracting.

"That's enough," she rumbled. "This feels good. Think the splint can stay off, but I want you using a cane or the crutch. Gonna keep it wrapped just in case."

Cadoc nodded, but realized she wasn't looking at him. "I understand," he said. "You have no idea what a relief this is. I was afraid I would go to seed, laying about all day."

Rukhash stood to her full height, her eyes roaming over him appraisingly. Cadoc didn't have the most handsome face she'd ever seen, but his build was lean and strong, like a male that had spent most of his time on the battlefield. "Wouldn't worry 'bout that too much," she told him appreciatively.

Cadoc rubbed his neck self consciously. Rukhash eased him back down to sit on the couch and pulled a clean wrap from her satchel. Cadoc sat patiently and she bound his leg, her work strong hands rounding his calf with rhythmic, practiced ease. Cadoc thought she looked particularly lovely today. He really did like that color on her. The blue against her black skin was a startling contrast, and her eyes were a warm yellow, almost honey, in the cozy light of the hearth. Cadoc felt his mouth go a little dry as she worked, and he shifted in his seat, anxious, as she grazed her fingers along his skin in a way that felt far more pleasant than it was meant to.

"So what brought you back so quickly?" Cadoc asked her, hoping a little conversation would help stem his arousal. Rukhash had left almost immediately after he kissed her, but it seemed as though she barely spent more than half an hour helping Edda. He wasn't sure how to take her reaction. Did his mention of Ingrid bother her, despite her words to the contrary? Cadoc still had some old hurts to sort through, and there were larger issues that the two of them would eventually have to discuss if they were to carry on for any length of time, but that didn't mean he wasn't ready to explore a deeper relationship with her. Actually, considering the recent reactions of his body when she was close, he was more than ready.

Rukhash snorted with a fanged smile. "Your sis had some company, a gaggle of prissy bints I never seen. Brutish and Gerbil and Riggles and Cunt-wind."

Cadoc broke out into a fit of laughter. He knew exactly who the orcess was talking about. "What was the second to last one?" he gasped as he held his aching middle.

"Riggles?" the orcess said, half laughing herself. "You know ol' Riggles, yea?" Encouraged by Cadoc's howling, Rukhash began laughing as well. The two of them roared on for several minutes. Every time Cadoc calmed down, he would look at Rukhash and begin another round of snickering which the orcess would join in on. At one point, Rukhash heard him snort out, "Gracious Valar, that's priceless."

Tears streaming down his face, "I know all four of them," Cadoc admitted, catching his breath. "I hope you weren't too tough on those women," he added, wiping the tears from his eyes as he finally reigned himself in. "Edda has to deal with them quite often."

" _Nar_ ," the orcess snickered, wiping her own eyes. "I done ruffled their feathers a bit and legged it outta there. Didn't seem like nothin' I needed to sit in on."

Cadoc put his arm around the orcess as she sat next to him on the sofa. "Edda must have loved that," he told her. "My poor sister has to be polite with them because their husbands do business with Elador, but she can't stand them, really."

Rukhash reached over to pull her knitting into her lap. "Hope she had a kick of it, then," the orcess said as she plucked at the knot of yarn. "Think I should just start this over."

Jumping up, the orcess stretched and looked towards Cadoc on the couch. "Want some tea?" she asked. Cadoc nodded, and the orcess went to the kitchen and fixed them both a cup of tea. Rukhash didn't care much for  _tark_  tea, but she had a little of her own mixture that she made for herself.

She set Cadoc's tea next to him. He already had his nose in his book, and nodded his thanks as he brought the cup to his lips. Rukhash settled, cross legged, next to him and began pulling apart her disastrous crocheting attempt. Once she had the yarn sorted out, she began again, making larger loops to make things easier on herself. She spent a good while cursing at the yarn before she realized Cadoc had his hand on her thigh. With a stealthy glance in his direction she noticed his attention was still on his book, even though his thumb was rubbing slow circles on her leg.

She wasn't sure about this subtle gesture. Deciding she'd give him an easier time of things, the orcess scooted a little closer. Cadoc shifted with her, putting his arm around her shoulder so he could trace along the length of her pointed ear. Rukhash's eyes fluttered shut, the knitting in her lap forgotten. She wanted him. This wasn't like earlier. He had been sad and thinking about another woman then. Now it felt like it was just the two of them, and it was Cadoc pressing forward. Rukhash had a feeling that, based on his reaction to her earlier explanation of  _shaûk_  and mates, Cadoc would put more weight on their intimacy than she would, and she didn't want to be the one to push the issue.

Rukhash's heart was thundering. After what seemed like an eternity, the orcess turned to face Cadoc, half afraid that his nose would still be in his book. Cadoc was watching her with the most intense expression she'd ever seen on his face. Without warning, he reached down to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her forward, slanting his mouth against hers. A little unnerved by the unfamiliar gesture – orcs were not terribly keen on touching mouths – Rukhash braced herself against his chest and let him take the lead.

The press of his lips against her was firm but pliant, and Rukhash felt herself relaxing against him. When his tongue darted out to slick across her lips, the orcess opened her mouth to him obligingly. His tongue touched hers, and she felt a jolt of heat fill her. Deciding she liked what he was doing, she ran her own tongue against the smooth bluntness of his teeth, and he moaned into her mouth, reaching down to pull her leg over him, so she was straddling his waist.

It was like a dam broke. Immediately, he was pulling up the hem of her skirt, and Rukhash hurriedly undid the ties of her dress so he could pull it up and over her head. Then his mouth was on her breast, hot and hungry, while his hand reached up between her legs. She nearly yowled when his fingers entered her, but bit her lip instead, drawing blood. She rocked on his hand, panting desperately as he kissed and licked along her breasts and the arching curve of her collar. Worried she would scratch him raw, Rukhash clutched the hair at the nape of his neck and fisted her hand in his shirt as she came with a strangled bark.

Eager now, Rukhash pulled his shirt and vest up and off of him with one smooth motion. She bent forwards to nip lightly at his neck and jaw, enjoying the rough texture of his stubble against her mouth, while he fumbled to free the ties on his breeches. Annoyed, Rukhash ran her claw up the lacing and sliced it in one go. She pressed her mouth against his as she reached for his arousal, using her own slickness to stroke the length of him. Cadoc was breathing in shallow, hoarse gasps, her name a breathless whisper on his lips.

He groaned huskily into her mouth as she eased onto him. He was not as large as her Anba had been, but Cadoc was a respectable size and it had been so long since she had a male inside her she thought she might weep from the pleasure of it. His hands were on her waist, guiding her pace, and Rukhash was dimly aware that she was growling.

She held his gaze as she moved, and Rukhash thought she might have judged him hastily when she called him ugly. His eyes were like warm steel, with flecks of red reflection from the hearth, and the way the the light cast harsh shadows against his lust filled grimace made him look almost orcish.

Unable to get much leverage on his one good leg, Cadoc was pressing her to move faster, and Rukhash found she liked the easy way her name rolled off his tongue. She bucked against him harder, faster, feeling her own completion coming soon. Cadoc stiffened, and spent his lust with a hoarse shout. Rukhash was not far behind him, gritting her teeth against a howl as she felt the hot rush of his seed fill her. She collapsed against his chest breathlessly, completely spent. Cadoc held her for a long while afterwards, idly tracing the whirling, raised scars on her back and Rukhash graced his jaw with light nips, purring contently as they caught their breath.

Finally coming back to herself, Rukhash eased off him and rolled to her side of the couch, stretching contently. Cadoc wouldn't let her go quietly, and pulled her back against his side.

"Let's go to bed," he whispered hoarsely, pressing his forehead against hers.

Smirking lecherously, the orcess nipped lightly at his chin. "Bit early for sleepin', ain't it?"

Returning her smile and its sentiment, Cadoc reached up to brush a sweaty lock of hair off of her face. "We will not be  _sleeping_ ," he whispered in her ear, and Rukhash snickered.

Later, she dozed with her head on Cadoc's chest, enjoying the warm slow thud of his heart. Rukhash held his hand clasped in hers, and admired the while paleness of his skin against the blackness of her own. She found she rather liked the contrast.

* * *

**Last Edited: June 2014**


	16. Genealogy

**Splint  
Chapter 16 Genealogy**

* * *

A husky rumble brought Cadoc back to wakefulness. He felt Rukhash's muscled thigh brush against his more private areas in a startlingly possessive way. She was half draped over him, not quite asleep. Her yellow eye slit open, regarding him lazily. A slow smile crept across her face.

"Mornin'," she purred in his ear before playfully nipping at the round tip.

Barely a minute awake, and Rukhash seemed ready to have at him again. Cadoc didn't think he had another round in him; not before a cup of tea, at any rate. He felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the males of her race. After their activities the night before, he was feeling a bit too tender. Rukhash seemed willing to make up for five years of celibacy in one night, and Cadoc, while not exactly the most prudish when it came to pleasures of the flesh – Ingrid was neither his first nor his last venture – felt as though he may have exhausted his limited vocabulary of knowledge in that area.

Cadoc pressed the heel of his hand into the small of her back and relieved a little tension he felt in the muscles there. "Did you sleep well?" he asked her. That seemed to distract the orcess from the spot below his ear she was currently focused on. A strange, cooing purr rolled from her throat, as she nuzzled jaw. It was the sort of affectionate gesture he would not have expected of her. Despite the unfamiliarity, it put a warm feeling in his heart.

Perhaps sensing his reluctance, the orcess relaxed her overtures and contented herself with laying against his shoulder. She didn't seem particularly chatty at the moment. Cadoc dozed lightly and watched her run her claws through the hair on his chest. She seemed fascinated with this; an amused expression on her face as she twirled little dark clumps between her fingers, over and over, until she had made a circle of cowlicks.

"That tickles a little," Cadoc told her, half serious.

Rukhash smiled at him and ruffled the hair until it fell back into its natural position. "Hairy bastard," she commented offhandedly and made it, somehow, sound like a compliment.

Cadoc laid a chaste kiss on her brow. The gash she had received in the village square had become another raised scar to add to her impressive collection. Cadoc traced it lightly with his thumb, frowning. Though it was not his stone cast, he felt as though he had given her this one. It settled poorly with him. He had entertained, briefly, the thought of asking her to remain in his village with him long term, but Cadoc realized, looking at the small light patch on her brow, that would ultimately be a selfish request. Edda may have accepted the orcess into her house, and Magistrate Halbard may have given Rukhash his protection, but neither of those things would make her safe. For every Edda there would be a Baladnor, and for every Halbard an ignorant child with a stone. What other troubles would arise when the snow melted and folk were able to travel unhindered? No doubt word would spread of her presence here. Cadoc shuddered to think of who might choose seek her out and cause her grief.

"What'r you thinkin' 'bout?" the orcess asked quietly, noticing his troubled expression.

Cadoc sighed and pulled her closer. "I am thinking I will miss you even more when you decide to leave."

His words sat poorly, and she frowned. "Yer comin' with me though, right?" she said after a pause. "Said you'd help me get home."

"And I intend to," Cadoc assured her.

Rukhash brightened a little. "Don't be so glum," she said, nuzzling his jaw again. "We'll can still have our fun 'til I go, but you an' I both know nothin' can come of it. Neither of us will have peace if we do."

It had been a long time since Cadoc felt the easy closeness that he experienced with Rukhash. She was capable and intelligent, fascinating and familiar, and he might have considered her a true companion if not for the obstacle of her race. Cadoc could accept what she was, but he knew the rest of his world would not. He wanted to rage against the unfairness of it all. Instead, he rolled to his side and pulled the orcess against the length of his body. Enjoying the play of her firm curves against his bare skin, he decided to reciprocate her earlier advances

* * *

Warily, Ingrid sliced the bread for breakfast, one eye on her task and the other on her husband at the table. Baladnor was drinking already, and that was never a good sign. He complained often of the pain his old wounds gave him, but Ingrid knew there were less inebriating options he could turn to. Right now he was silent, brooding. Ingrid had a fairly good idea why.

She was not part of the assembled onlookers when the orc was brought through the village, but she had received a detailed description of what occurred there. Baladnor had railed against the magistrates decision, sure that Halbard had also been bewitched by the orc in some way. Ingrid had listened to him patiently, half afraid of his ranting and half enraged. She didn't understand why he couldn't leave it alone. Cadoc's orc had nothing to do with them.

Baladnor had not always been this shadow of a man. When Ingrid had first met him, he was quite charming and very attentive to her, something she had desired for years, even when she was married. Ingrid was wed to Cadoc when she was only nineteen. At first, being the wife of a ranger was an honor. Her husband was regarded as a hero for his chosen profession, and she had been proud to be the spouse of such a brave man. Cadoc had warned her of the long stretches when he would be away, but she hadn't cared. He was gentle and warm and soft spoken, and if she did not know he was a warrior, his manner would have never professed it. At first, Ingrid had considered herself very lucky.

Then there was War, and after the War, and Cadoc began to slowly change. She had shrugged it off as weariness; he was gone for so long, battling far off monsters, of course he would be exhausted from it. He became quieter, less affectionate, more subdued. He would stare for hours into nothing, and she knew he had seen things that haunted him. She wanted so desperately to share that burden with him, but whenever she asked of it he would smile softly and shake his head. "It is nothing you need to worry about, Ingrid," he would say. And every time he said such things to her, she resented it.

After a time, it seemed as though they were simply going through motions, she the patient, waiting wife and he the dutiful ranger and part-time husband. She felt empty. For years, Ingrid thought that her girlish hopes for a happy ending had long vanished, but Baladnor rekindled a feeling in her that Cadoc had long ago snuffed out. He was so passionate and alive and devoted to  _her_ , not some king that didn't know his name.

Until that fateful summer he went orc hunting and returned as the shell he was now. He drank to dull his pain, both of the body and of the spirit, and Ingrid couldn't bring herself to leave him. She loved him – more than she had ever really loved Cadoc – and somewhere in this miserable person, was the man that loved  _her_.

"I need another," Baladnor groused, sliding his empty bottle away. He stood and swayed a little. Ingrid put down her knife and went to steady him, but he pushed her off. "I have it," he grumbled at her.

"You should have some breakfast," Ingrid said calmly. It had been a long time since she's seen him this drunk this early.

Baladnor snatched another bottle from the shelf. He collapsed awkwardly in his chair and popped the cork, effectively blowing her off. Ingrid's face twisted up in rage and she surged forward to pull the bottle out of his hand. "Enough!" she growled, and slammed a plate of eggs in front of him.

Like a boy who had snuck too many cookies, Baladnor looked properly chastised. "Sorry, Ingrid," he said, wavering in his seat. Obediently, he took a fork from her and began eating; mopping at the yolks messily with his bread. Sighing, Ingrid placed the bottle back on the shelf.

"It isn't right," Baladnor mumbled at his eggs.

Ingrid set her own breakfast across from him and broke her yolk gently, watching the runny yellows flow around the edge of her plate. "What isn't right?" she said conversationally.

"That orc," Baladnor growled, placing his fork down and looking at her pointedly. "We can't let those creatures sneak among us. You mark my words, there'll be trouble for it."

Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose. "It has nothing to do with us, Baladnor. Leave Cadoc and Elador to their own business."

"After what those things did to me?" Baladnor jumped from his seat suddenly and, stumbling, managed to barely catch himself on the counter.

"It isn't as if it is the same one that injured you," Ingrid sighed.

"That doesn't matter!" Baladnor slapped his palm hard on the table, shaking her plate. "They're all the same: violent, murdering animals, the lot of them."

"She didn't seem that dangerous," Ingrid said casually before realizing her error.

Baladnor's features contorted into an indescribable expression. "What are you talking about?" he said dangerously. He crossed the short distance between them before Ingrid could form a response. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he nearly lifted Ingrid from her seat. "When did you see it?" he bellowed, his breath hot and sour on her face.

"You're hurting me, Baladnor," Ingrid hissed through her teeth.

Baladnor released her and stumbled backwards, falling to the hard, stone floor on his rear. His head hung in his hands, and he began weeping bitterly. Somewhere in between his sobs were broken apologies. Ingrid regarded him for several long minutes before joining him on the floor. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, hugging him to her chest. "It's all right," she soothed, resting her cheek on his head. "I'm not angry."

"Gonna be sick, Ingrid," Baladnor informed her, and then he was.

After she had picked him up and saw him back to bed, Ingrid found herself scrubbing the kitchen floor for the third time that week. She was glad Holgar wasn't living at home anymore. The moment he was old enough, her son apprenticed himself with a master carpenter and left to aid in the rebuilding of Minas Tirith. Ingrid missed him, but she was proud of him and happy he was able to put the misery of his home life behind him. Holgar had pressed her to join him, both before he left and in their frequent correspondence, but it would be a poor love if she abandoned her husband to his misery. Holgar was making a life for himself in the city, and Baladnor needed her.

The one thing lacking from Holgar's letters was mention of his father. Ingrid had written of Cadoc on two occasions, when he went missing and after his miraculous return. Holgar responded with news of his apprenticeship, of his admiration for his master and of the glorious transformation of the once decimated city.

Of his father, he wrote one sentence:  _His fate concerns me little._

It pained Ingrid to read. As a boy, Holgar had adored his father. Now he was growing into a man that could not bear Cadoc's faults. While a fair amount of the blame could be placed on Cadoc for his stubborn absence, Ingrid found there was a little left for her as well. Their divorce had not been clean or nice, and her words for Cadoc were often unpleasant. She hoped one day the two of them might find peace with one another.

* * *

"You have to save him, Rukhash!" Wulf pleaded.

Rukhash stared up at the orange ball of fuzz yowling on the snow covered roof. "The fuck'd he git up there?" she rumbled. There was neither a tree or a gutter for the cat to have scaled. Rukhash thought for a moment that he had leaped, but the distance was far too great for his tiny legs. To her knowledge, cats were unable to fly, but now she wondered...

Wulf did not share her interest in the possibilities of feline teleportation. The boy's face was grave; his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "He'll freeze up there. Please, Rukhash! You said you were a good climber."

The orcess rolled her eyes. Sighing, she started a slow ascent up the stony side of Edda's house. The settings were deep enough to give her a good purchase, but the stone was slick, and Rukhash proceeded cautiously, careful to make sure her grip was firm. Climbing was not nearly as easy in a dress. By the time she reached the rim of the roof, the furball was shivering with cold. Rukhash wasn't sure which of them was more pathetic.

"Common, you stupid sod," she rumbled at the cat as it backed away from her with a nervous hiss. "Ol' Aunty Rukhash ain't gonna hurt ya." She snatched the cat by his ruff and tucked him under her arm before he could mewl with protest. His claws dug instinctively into her side, and the orcess growled out several, colorful curses in her own tongue. She was on the ground with one, easy bound.

"Thank you, thank you!" Wulf exclaimed as she pried the cat off of her and shoved the little feline into Wulf's waiting arms. The boy clutched the cat to his chest. "Hail Rukhash!" he praised. "The Savior of Cats."

" _Skai_ ," the orcess hissed. "It'll be Rukhash Eater of Cats if 'e makes me climb after 'im again. You keep that bugger outta trouble."

Wulf smiled and nodded enthusiastically, bounding up the porch steps and into the house. The orcess shook her head and headed around to the rear to Edda's washroom. Rukhash had taken up doing laundry for herself and Cadoc since they began sleeping together. The orcess considered it wiser this way. There were quite a few suspicious tears in Cadoc's clothing, and Rukhash preferred it if Edda didn't approach them with any disconcerting questions.

She had suggested it first, but the both of them agreed that discretion would be the wisest course of action. After all, Rukhash would be leaving once the snows passed, and she did not want Cadoc left with a messy clean up in her wake. Besides, neither of them knew what a reaction to such a relationship would be. Even Edda, as easy tempered as she was, might find grievance with the knowledge that Rukhash and Cadoc were lovers. It would be simpler for everyone concerned if they kept the whole thing quiet.

As she returned with their laundry, Rukhash caught some movement at the side of the cottage. Taking a brief detour, she was surprised to see Cadoc practicing with his sword. He had been following her orders, using a cane for the past several days since the splint came off, but his leg was growing stronger every day. He was barely limping, and the cane acted more as a precaution than a necessity. Rukhash was pleased that orcish medicine worked so well on him. When she had begun treating him, she was worried he would take forever to heal.

Watching his slow, graceful movements, Rukhash was suddenly struck by how accomplished he was with a sword. Even with a few months of rest and recovery, it seemed as though he had never put the weapon down, as though it were an extension of his own arm. Rukhash hadn't touched her own sword since she began staying at the cottage with Cadoc. She felt a wave of embarrassment hit her. How unskilled she must have looked to him! The orcess quietly promised herself she would begin practicing again.

Cadoc noticed her standing silently, watching him. He sheathed his sword and smiled at her, and Rukhash felt herself return the smile, twisting it to something suggestive. It was a little thrilling to see him use a weapon. As he approached her, she had to restrain herself from embracing him openly. Anyone could see them out here.

He didn't seem to have her reservations. Cadoc ran his knuckles down her jaw and neck in a gentle gesture, and Rukhash felt herself shiver a little. "I've started dinner," he told her, his voice warm and husky.

Rukhash's eyes darted around nervously. "Should go inside, then," the orcess purred as she shifted the basket of laundry on her hip. She hoped he caught the glint in her eye.

The second the door closed behind them, Rukhash nearly leaped into Cadoc's arms. He took her quickly and roughly against the door. She liked when he was a little less gentle with her. Rukhash might have pressed him to be more violent with their coupling if she didn't have a good sense that he would not enjoy it. The last time she begged him to bite her, she could smell his anxiety at her request. Besides, his passion was not lacking in any other area, so she felt as though she did not have the right to complain that he would not draw blood on her.

After they slaked their lust, Rukhash went about hanging their laundry on the line in the main room while Cadoc saw to supper. The past week had been exhilarating and Rukhash could not remember the last time she had been so happy. Years, easily. Not since her clan lived. A part of her wished they could go on like this forever, but her practical side knew that could never be. Better to enjoy it while it lasted and not lament the ending.

* * *

"What does your name mean?"

They were laying in Cadoc's bed. Rukhash was on her stomach, purring quietly as Cadoc traced lazy circles in the small of her back. The fire was warm and she was comfortably full and sated and half asleep. "Hmm?" she rumbled, not quite hearing him.

The bed shifted beneath her, and Cadoc's touch moved up between her shoulder blades. "Your name," he repeated. " _Rukhash_ , does it have a meaning?"

Rukhash sighed contently, rolled into the crook of his arm and pulled the quilts up to cover her naked breasts. "Yea," she said with a yawn. "Why you wanna know?"

Cadoc brushed some hair from her face. "I'm just curious," he told her.

"Hn," the orcess grunted. "Well  _ash_  means 'one,' but also it can mean 'start' an' 'begin'."

"And  _Rukh_?" Cadoc pressed.

Rukhash's mouth curled up into a little smile. "'At means 'horror'." she said with a hint of amusement.

Cadoc absorbed this information quietly. "So your name means 'horror begin'? That is quite ominous."

Rukhash laughed and rested her head on his shoulder so they were facing one another. "My dad named me after some ol' bint from legend."

"Is that right?" Cadoc said, now very interested.

" _Sha_ ," the orcess growled. " _Rukhash_  was the first female orc, or somethin'. Supposedly she were real easy on the eyes and all the males wanted at 'er. Gave birth to the whole race a orc. There's another story wit' her what said she suckled some abandoned wolf cubs wit' her whelps, and them were the first wargs. 'Ats why orcs 'n wargs get on so well, 'cause they was nursed on the same tit."

Rukhash yawned toothily and snuggled in a little closer. "Least," she went on, "that's what my old dad said. Nan tol' me she never heard such a stupid thing. Mighta been a Mordor orc legend, now 'at I think on it. Grazad knew it. Gave me shit 'bout my name all the time. Used ta tell me I were too damn skinny to be a Rukhash."

"I think your old mistress is a fool," Cadoc said, smiling. "I can understand why you were named for an orcish beauty."

Rukhash snorted and nipped his jaw lightly. "What about  _Cadoc_? Does it mean somethin'?"

"Perhaps," Cadoc said vaguely. "I am named for my great uncle, but it is a Dunlending name, so I am not entirely sure of its translation. My knowledge of the language is very limited."

Rukhash lifted her head, surprised. "You're part Dunlander?" The orcess snickered. "I didn't know we 'ad so much in common. Why didn't ya never mention it?"

Cadoc shrugged casually. "I consider myself a man of Gondor, but the story is quite tragic. My grandfather aided my grandmother in fleeing her own people. Apparently her chieftain had put some order on her that she refused to cooperate with. Her brother, Cadoc, helped her to escape and died in the process. My grandmother asked my father to name his son after her beloved brother who died to protect her."

The orcess's face fell into a troubled expression. "What were the order?" Rukhash asked uneasily.

"I don't know," Cadoc told the orcess, confused by her sudden change in mood.

Rukhash worried her lip. "You know," she said quietly, "an' it were before I was born, mind ya, but there were more 'n Dunlander men called to Orthanc. There were women too. Nan said she could hear 'em wailin' in their cells. Said she couldn't get why they were bein' so whiny 'bout the work needed ta be done."

Cadoc's expression turned grim. "Is that true?"

"It's what nan tol' me," Rukhash replied. "By the time I were born, there were enough uruk girls ta breed from. Only Dunlander I saw were granddad or the lads what went on raids wit' the soldiers."

"That is..." Cadoc had no words. "Extremely disturbing."

"Least yer granny got off," Rukhash said, hoping to lighten the mood. "Maybe that weren't it at all anyhow, but I wouldn't put it by Sharky ta do somethin' like pay of chiefs fer girls 'e could use. He were a right arsehole."

Cadoc laughed, trying to clear the uneasy feeling Rukhash's information gave him. "Of that," he told her honestly, "I have  _no_  doubt."

* * *

**Last Edited: June 2014**


	17. The Winter Festival

**Splint  
Chapter 17 The Winter Festival**

* * *

Rukhash looked as though she might be sick. "I'm sorry," the orcess said for the hundredth time as she drew her needle through the laceration on Cadoc's shoulder. "So,  _so,_  sorry."

Cadoc was trying to concentrate on anything aside from the steady, burning heat of the scratches she'd given him. Truthfully, they were much more than scratches. In her passion, Rukhash had raked her claws along his shoulder with enough force to leave four, deep slices in his flesh. Cadoc never realized her claws were so sharp, mostly because she had always been very careful with them. Apparently, she enjoyed his earlier ministrations enough to forget herself completely. Now, they sat on his bed, half dressed, as Rukhash stitched his wound. Salve stemmed the bleeding, but she still had to dab at his skin often to clear enough blood away to sew him up. Cadoc could not remember seeing her this upset. Sad, perhaps; when she spoke of her dead kin she was always sad, but now she seemed stricken with remorse.

Cadoc regarded her distressed expression as she dipped the needle once more into his flesh. "I'm not angry with you," he told her evenly. "I know you didn't mean to do it."

"Don't fuckin' matter," the orcess growled, obviously angry with herself. "Shoulda paid attention to what I was doin'. Shoulda fucking filed my damn claws down before this happened."

Cadoc reached behind him to lay a comforting hand on her knee. "I would never ask you to cut your claws for me," he told her quietly. "They are a part of who you are."

Rukhash bit the thread loose and tucked her needle away in a small leather satchel. She was silent as she wiped more dark salve over his wound and bandaged him. Cadoc allowed her to work quietly. When he accepted Rukhash into his bed, he assumed there would be some rough spots along the way. If he were honest with himself, he was a little surprised something like this hadn't happened sooner.

Cadoc did not expect Rukhash to savage him, but he assumed that orcs were rougher than men when it came to coupling. Rukhash's frequent requests for him to bite her certainly confirmed that assumption, though Cadoc was glad she never again asked him to be violent with her. He felt as though his soul went to a dark place the one time they attempted it, after his leg had finished healing. He was not able to find any pleasure in the act. She had enjoyed his rough handling with obvious, distressing enthusiasm, but Cadoc didn't have it in him to dominate a woman in such a way. The orcess realized his discomfort – and lack of arousal – and ceased her invitations for him to strike her or force her beneath him. But Rukhash liked the occasional nip at her neck.

This, Cadoc could meet her halfway on. He didn't feel comfortable biting her hard, but using his teeth, lightly, was not too foreign. It only seemed fair,after all. Rukhash had a tendency to graze her teeth along his skin in a way that suggested she would enjoy being rougher with  _him_ , but she always held herself back, cautiously tucking her hands to her side, or turning her head to snap at the air at the height of her passion. The orcess could be very sweet and very gentle, but occasionally a dangerous taste would strike her, and Cadoc was thankful for her restraint.

Rukhash was in the kitchen, furiously filing away her salves and ointments. Cadoc stood for a moment in the doorway and watched her. She had hastily thrown on his shirt and her hair was a nest of snarls. Her yellow eyes flashed with anger and regret. Cadoc hoped her anguish was not for the turn their relationship had made. Despite the dull throbbing in his shoulder, he had no misgivings. Crossing the room resolutely, Cadoc came to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. The orcess stilled her movements, slouching beneath his palms.

"I am fully aware," the ranger began, "that no matter how many dresses you wear, there is still a part of you that will never be tamed. I do not  _want_  you to tame yourself for me. Just as, I am sure, you would not want me to change myself to suit  _you_."

Rukhash turned in his grasp. She did not seem able to meet his eyes. "Been real happy these past couple weeks," she told him quietly. "I can't stay here, an' I'm glad you haven't asked me to. Even wit'out folks buttin' their big noses in, shit'd just go sour after a while, an' I don't want us to end like that."

"Do you regret what we've done?" Cadoc asked her seriously. "Because I do not. I have had many regrets in my life, Rukhash, but you are not one of them."

The orcess's eyes shimmered as her gaze met his. A small, thin smile tugged at her lips, and Cadoc was relieved to see it. " _Nar_ ," she said quietly. "Can't really say I regret a thing."

* * *

"I'm glad you could persuade her to go," Edda said cheerfully as she straightened Cadoc's ornate vest. "It would be in her best interest if the other villagers would see her as we do."

Cadoc doubted that anyone else would look at Rukhash the same way his relatives did. They had invited the orcess into their home, and somehow she had become a part of their family. "It was, actually, not so difficult to convince her," Cadoc admitted. "Rukhash has never seen a festival before, and Halbard's ruling has made her feel safe enough to walk among people."

When he brought up the Winter Festival to Rukhash, Cadoc had been surprised by her enthusiasm. Though the ranger doubted she would be met with completely open arms, he had faith in the better instincts of man. Besides, he was healthy and whole and would be there to protect her if need be, but Cadoc doubted anyone would make a move against her in such a public setting. Magistrate Halbard had been very clear regarding the consequences of cutting Rukhash down without cause.

While Edda fussed over Cadoc's attire, Morwen fussed over her own. Sitting on the girl's bed, which was covered in so many pillows and stuffed creatures, the orcess was surprised she had room  _to_  sit, Rukhash watched as Morwen smoothed her front over and over. Rukhash couldn't understand what Morwen was fussing about. The girl twirled in her new dress, a rich brown suede affair that matched the dark curls on her head, smiling like an idiot into the mirror on her wall. "It's lovely isn't it?" the girl gushed, running her pale fingers over the white lace at the collar.

The orcess shrugged, unsure of what to say. She had no measure for what mannish folk considered lovely, especially where clothing was concerned. At best, Rukhash could say that the embroidered bodice made the girl's tiny breasts look a little more pronounced. "I guess," the orcess said without enthusiasm.

Morwen faced Rukhash with a bemused expression. The girl ran an appraising gaze over her attire. "You're not going like  _that_ , are you?"

Taken aback, Rukhash glanced down at the light blue dress she was wearing. It was a simple, homespun wool, one of Cadoc's favorites on her – he had said as much himself. She had finished her outfit off with her dark boots and wolfskin cloak, which were warm and comfortable. The orcess hadn't thought more on her attire than that. "What's wrong with it?" Rukhash asked, suddenly self conscious.

"Everyone wears their  _best_  for the Winter Festival," Morwen explained, sounding exasperated.

Rukhash felt a twinge of annoyance at Morwen's attitude. "It  _is_  my best," the orcess growled.

Morwen approached Rukhash and ran her hand along the worn frills on the too-short sleeves. "This is one of mother's old dresses, isn't it?"

Rukhash nodded quietly. "Only other things I've got 'er my tunics. Don't think folks'll care much either way."

Morwen worried her bottom lip between her blunt, white teeth. Suddenly, her expression brightened with inspiration. "I have an idea," she said excitedly. "Stay here," the girl ordered as she rushed from her room.

Standing before the tall, oval mirror, Rukhash regarded her reflection. The orcess didn't think she looked all that bad; a bit mismatched, maybe, but still neat and clean. She had washed earlier and brushed her hair which now fell in soft curls around her shoulders. Her cloak and boots she had made herself, years ago, and they still fit her well. Rukhash squared her shoulders. She thought she looked rather nice, actually. She liked that the scar across her chest was visible.

Before the orcess could escape to the kitchen, where the bulk of the family was assembled, Morwen dashed back into the room with Edda on her heels. Rukhash eyed the pile of cream material in Edda's arms suspiciously. "The fuck is that?" the orcess rumbled, not liking the excited expressions on either of their faces.

"Another old dress of mine," Edda admitted. "One I wore to the festival years ago, but I think it might fit you better."

Rukhash wondered, briefly, why Edda bothered to keep so many things that didn't fit her.

The older woman unfolded her bundle and held the dress up for Rukhash's examination. It was mostly a plain cream color with a similar cut to the dress she now wore, but the material was finer, a layering of translucent silk and a thicker wool underneath. The hem was detailed in black with delicate, twirling embroidery. The back was laced up from the waist to the low neckline. A heavy, ochre shawl was tucked in the crook of Edda's elbow.

"What do you think?" Edda said brightly, her lips drawn in a wide smile.

Rukhash's mouth hung open for a long minute. Edda couldn't possibly be serious. "So..." the orcess said slowly, "you want I should change?"

"Won't it be fun," Edda said, and it was a statement, not an inquiry. She deposited the dress on the bed and lifted the cloak off of Rukhash's shoulders. "It's nice to dress up once in a while, don't you think?"

Rukhash already felt fairly "dressed up," but remained complacent as Edda helped her change. The orcess assumed her hostess would have a better idea as to what was appropriate for such an event. Edda had her laced up into the dress – a wholly uncomfortable experience in Rukhash's opinion – and the shawl thrown on her shoulders in short order. Morwen had ducked out of the room, only to return with a brush and hand full of hair pins.

"Keep that shit away from me," Rukhash growled, pointing at the silver pins in Morwen's hand. "You done plenty already."

"Oh, quit your grousing," Edda chided as she pushed Rukhash down onto a nearby stool. "I'll make sure it's very simple. Don't you worry."

Rukhash winced and grunted as Edda brushed her hair furiously; twisting and twisting and pinning it to the back of her head. "Think you missed yer callin' in the torture chambers," Rukhash growled sarcastically. "Them lads in  _Lugbúrz_  coulda moved plenty a tongues doin' this ta folks."

Edda sighed and shook her head as she pulled a few, curly shorthairs loose at the nape of Rukhash's neck. "There," she said, ignoring the orcess's comment. "Go have a look at yourself."

Obediently, Rukhash stood and turned to face the mirror. The orcess gaped at her reflection. If another orc saw her at this moment, she was sure that she would die of embarrassment. The dress looked just as fancy on her as it looked in Edda's hands. Granted, it was soft and fine, but it pressed her breasts in and up uncomfortably and cinched close to her waist. The sleeves were a little longer, tailored to fall over the hand, but they only succeeded in adequately covering her wrists. The shawl had more embellishments than the orcess had suspected; ending in a frilly trim. The length of the skirts nearly reached the ground, and hid her boots from sight. Her thick, dark hair was startlingly different, pulled back and up into a simple twist. It showed off her thin neck and delicate, pointed ears and the youthful roundness of her face. She looked like a poor impersonation of a  _tark_  woman; with too large eyes and too dark skin and too sharp nails. Rukhash scowled in an attempt to mar the illusion.

"Don't you look lovely," Edda cooed, coming to stand behind her.

Rukhash swallowed her indignation. "Is it supposed to be so damn tight?" the orcess hissed through her teeth.

Edda laughed lightly, patting the orcess on the back. "You'll get used to it," the woman replied. "You certainly have the figure for it." Edda sighed wistfully, " I remember when I was as small waisted as you."

Rukhash's gaze slid sideways and she caught sight of Morwen, grinning like an arse, from the doorway. She looked entirely too pleased with herself. Rukhash decided to start calling her _Marvin_  again.

An exasperated frown on his face, Cadoc ducked his head through the doorway. "Are you ready  _yet_?" He caught sight of the orcess, and his jaw nearly dropped to his feet. " _Rukhash_?"

Rukhash snorted and pointed an accusing finger at a smug looking Morwen and Edda. "It were their idea!"

"Isn't she fine looking?" Edda said happily as she passed Cadoc in the doorway, Morwen just behind. The two of them headed down the hallway towards the kitchen, chatting cheerfully over the excellent job they had done.

Cadoc blinked, speechless.  _Fine looking indeed,_  he thought numbly, his mouth going dry.

Rukhash fidgeted under his gaze, tucking her hands behind her back and avoiding eye contact. Cadoc smiled warmly and walked to her side. "You look very pretty," he told her honestly, "and also very uncomfortable."

"I look like a fuckin' idiot," Rukhash growled. "Ain't foolin' anyone like this. An orc in a dress is still a bleedin' orc."

"You should not be so critical of yourself," Cadoc told her gently. He ran his hand, feather light, along her bare neck, resting his thumb in the hollow of her throat. "You are beautiful."

Rukhash swallowed thickly and felt her face go hot.

Leaning over, Cadoc brought his lips to her ear. "And since you are being kind enough to humor my sister," he whispered softly, "I promise to help you out of that dress later."

"I'm holdin' you ta that," Rukhash replied, her gold eyes flashing mischievously.

* * *

Rukhash didn't know what she expected a festival to look like. The last time she stepped foot in the village square, the day had seemed bleak and gray. Now, hopping down from Edda's carriage, she stared at a canopy of white tents lit by hundreds of twinkling glass lanterns. A row of houses obscured her view of the streets, but the light shined, warm and comforting, through the archway of the main gate and onto the glittering, white snow. The soft sound of music filtered on the icy night breeze. Rukhash could not describe what she felt in that moment, her hand clasped in Cadoc's, but she wanted to hold onto it for a long time.

It had taken the better part of the day to get here. Dusk had fallen, and the sky was rich with blues and pinks melting in from the horizon. Elador promised they would stay at the inn to make their trip home lighter, so he steered their horses towards the boarding house to get the animals out of the cold. Edda was spirited away by her excited children, and they passed through the gate into the main square cheerfully.

Rukhash paused, looking up at Cadoc. "Weren't nervous 'til now," she admitted quietly.

Cadoc squeezed her hand lightly, understanding. "All will be well," he told her, and she hoped he was right.

The moment the pair of them passed into public view, Rukhash released Cadoc's fingers, purposefully tucking her hands inside her shawl and folding her arms over her chest. Sensing the wisdom in her actions, Cadoc folded his own hands behind his back, though he lingered near the orcess as she gazed around in awe. A few villagers gawked at her, but Rukhash seemed too enthralled to notice, her head swiveling from side to side as she took in the scene around her.

The streets were even more dazzling than the view from just outside of town. Shopkeepers had set up little booths of wares outside their shops and musicians and performers were peppered along the main stretch. Several dozen people were milling about, all dressed as if they were going to a gala event, watching the performances or perusing the merchandise. More lights hung from the tent poles, brightening the gloom of night, and giving the village center an almost magical appearance.

Cadoc had to admit that he was a little impressed. The last time he had been to the Winter Festival, it was not nearly this large. "So," the ranger said, smiling down at Rukhash, "where do you want to start?"

"Dunno," the orcess said in a hushed tone. "Guess I'll just follow you."

Cadoc led her down the main street at a leisurely pace. The orcess paused from time to time to watch the street performers with a baffled expression. Cadoc had to appreciate their professionalism. The musicians never missed a beat, even if they looked more than a little concerned that an orc was so singularly focused on them.

Hearing his name being called, Cadoc turned to see Hedon and his wife, Nándra, approaching. Hedon's year-old daughter was on her father's shoulders, and Cadoc smiled at the trio as they approached.

"Where is your rambunctious son?" Cadoc asked him.

"He vanished with Wulf the moment he saw him," the younger man frowned thoughtfully. "Where is your orc?" Hedon asked, his eyes darting about.

Startled, Cadoc glanced at his side only to find an empty place where Rukhash had been a moment before. For a terrifying second, he thought he had lost her, but she was merely a few meters away, staring, wide eyed at a mime. The white faced man was pressing at the air around him, as though he were trapped within an invisible container. Rukhash followed his movements with rapt attention. As the mime bent to press at an invisible wall by his knees, Rukhash bent with him, her ears strained forwards and her nostrils flaring.

"What in the world is she doing?" Hedon asked as he relieved his shoulder of his daughter's weight and passed the girl to her mother.

"I doubt she's ever seen a mummer before," Cadoc said casually.

A crowd had gathered around the performance, just as interested in watching Rukhash as Rukhash was in watching the mime. She gasped, horrified as the clown pretended as if the box that contained him had shrunk. His worried expression amplified by the coal makeup around his eyes. Rukhash's hand darted forward to wave in the empty space between his outstretched palms.

A slow, angry realization crossed her features, and the orcess stood tall, stepping back from the performer and looking indignant. "The fuck is  _wrong_  with you?" Rukhash chided. "There ain't nothin' there!"

The crowd twittered with laughter, and Rukhash jumped, realizing that a large group of people had gathered around her. The mime shrugged silently, and the orcess scowled at him before ducking her head and hurrying back towards Cadoc, looking embarrassed. "What were all that about?" she hissed. "Thought he were magicked or something."

Cadoc bit back his amusement, realizing that would only add to Rukhash's discomfort. "He is miming," Cadoc explained. "It is a type of performance without words."

Rukhash wrinkled her nose and glared at the mummer, who was pretending to pull on a long rope. "Yer folk are a queer lot."

"Orc," Hedon greeted, half amused by the exchange between her and Cadoc.

Rukhash turned and eyed him coolly. "Oi, ya ox," the orcess replied. Her attention turned to Hedon's wife and their daughter. She didn't know Hedon had a mate. The small, light haired female at his side smelled strongly of him, as though they spent a good amount of time in close quarters. The dark haired child she held was a subtle combination of the two of them.

The woman smiled and thrust her hand forward. "Hello," she chirped. "I am Nándra, Hedon's wife."

A little taken aback by the sudden introduction, Rukhash shook the woman's hand dazedly. "Nice to meet ya," the orcess replied.

"And this is our daughter Cadry," Nándra said as she shifted her daughter. Cadry chewed on her fingers and stared at the orcess with round, blue eyes.

"Oh," Rukhash cooed. "Who's a sweet lil' mite?"

Cadry laughed and pointed her wet fingers at the orcess. "Bi' eyes," the child giggled before shoving her fist back into her mouth.

The orcess smiled warmly at the girl before turning an impish smirk on Hedon. "She's a heart," Rukhash gushed. "You sure she's yours?"

Hedon harumphed and put a possessive hand on Nándra's back as he glared at the orcess. "You aren't funny,  _orc_."

Rukhash snickered and addressed Cadry conspiratorially, whispering behind her hand loud enough for Hedon to hear. "Oh he's a mean old ox, yer dad. See how nasty he is to me? Still owes me a good sized stag, that one does."

Nándra bit her lip nervously as Hedon scoffed and directed Cadoc to the side in order to have a conversation. "I feel as though I should apologize," Nándra told the orcess gravely, "for causing you so much trouble."

Rukhash blinked, confused. She was sure that she had not met Hedon's wife until this moment. "How do you mean?"

"When Hedon returned from your mountain, he told me about you and Cadoc and what you did for the two of them," Nándra said with a sick expression. "I mentioned it to some of my lady friends, and word got around. I felt awful when I saw what they did; parading you through town on chains like that. It wasn't right."

She wasn't sure what to say. A part of Rukhash wanted to be angry, but Nándra's apology had been sincere. "Nothin' fer it," the orcess said at last, brushing it off. "It all worked out in the end, didn't it? Folks were bound to find out about me sooner 'r later. Better, I think, that it were sooner."

Nándra looked relieved, and shifted her sleepy daughter on her hip. Cadry had rested her head on her mother's shoulder and was dozing lightly. Rukhash smiled as the girl rubbed her eyes. "How old is she?" the orcess asked, motioning towards Cadry. She felt as though a change of subject was in order.

"Oh," Nándra said lightly. "She'll be a full year in the next month."

Rukhash was surprised by this information. The orcess assumed the girl was half that age. "A year ya say?" the orcess asked, not bothering to hide her astonishment. "She's a tiny thing fer bein' a whole year."

Nándra raised her brows, interested. "She's just about the size she should be," the woman informed the orcess. "At least, for a child of her race, she is. Are orc children much larger at this age?"

Rukhash snorted. "Loads," the orcess said. "I were wrestlin' wit' my older brothers and sisters by the time I were a year. Runnin' an' climbin' all over the den an' causin' no end a misery fer my poor mum. Orc sprogs grow quick till they're able to get about on their own without trouble."

"Well," Nándra said with a smile, "I suppose Cadry will be up to mischief soon enough, but right now I think I should get her to bed." The woman cast a glance at the child fast asleep on her shoulder, a little line of drool seeping from her tiny, bow-shaped lips.

"I will accompany you," Hedon announced as he approached the pair. "Until next time, orc," the large man said somberly, nodding in Rukhash's direction.

Rukhash snorted rudely. "Keep yer head outta yer arse, ox."

As Hedon and his wife walked into the crowd, Rukhash turned to Cadoc. He had a grim, thoughtful look on his face. "What'd you two chat about?" the orcess asked.

Shaken from his thoughts, Cadoc looked down at Rukhash and graced her with his most convincing smile. Hedon had informed Cadoc that Baladnor was about with some orc hunter friends of his. To Hedon, it had seemed as though the small group was simply enjoying the festivities, but he thought to warn his friend to be on guard. Cadoc didn't want to worry Rukhash. The likelihood they would come to an altercation with Baladnor and his idiot comrades amidst so many people was slight, at best.

"Nothing you need to be worried about," he lied.

* * *

 

Cadoc leafed through the picture book, pleased with himself. He had left Rukhash meandering through the apothecary's tent, hoping to get something special for her. Cadoc's gaze settled on an amusing woodcut of a horned troll, its red skin washed with light watercolor. He hoped she liked it. The drawings inside were more numerous and colorful, but simpler than the etchings in his mythology book that had fascinated her.

When he returned to the tent, Cadoc assumed that the orcess would still be sniffing through the hundreds of tiny bottles filled with multicolored elixirs and potions. Instead she was engrossed in conversation with old Auron, a physician and healer many years her senior. They were an amusing pair. Auron was a wide, stalwart man, ruddy and white haired with a round, pleasant face. He dwarfed the dark figure of the orcess. The two looked so enamored with one another, Cadoc was loath to break up their discussion.

As he approached them, Cadoc noticed a torn parchment in Auron's hand with small, coal drawings of leaves . Auron gestured to a fern-shaped leaf as he continued to speak to Rukhash. "And you say this is the plant you use to speed healing?"

"Yea," the orcess confirmed. "Ain't seen it yet round here, but the timin's not right. It were hard ta find in the mountains, but it grew all over the valley near  _Dushgoi_. Don't need much a it, though. Too much an' it'll make a lad sick."

Auron nodded, fascinated. "How do you judge its measure?"

"Ya go by the height an' the heaviness, but a fair guess is good enough. Only needed 'bout a tenth  _parz_  for Cadoc, dried."

Auron's brow furrowed. "I'm afraid I am unaware of that unit of measurement."

Rukhash cupped her palm and pointed to a crease near the bottom of the reservoir her hand made. "Bout here's a tenth  _parz_ ," she told the physician, indicating an amount near two tablespoons.

Pursing his lips, Auron stroked the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "That  _isn't_ much," he admitted. "How much would you give to a child."

" _None_ ," the orcess said emphatically. "It ain't good fer little ones. They gotta be past their heat 'fore it'll do anything decent fer 'em. Young orc'll heal quick enough anyhow."

"Ah, Cadoc," Auron said, finally noticing the ranger standing a few paces away. The physician held up his broad hand in greeting. "I was just speaking with your friend here."

"So I noticed," Cadoc said with a grin.

Rukhash regarded him sheepishly. "Didn't mean to take so long."

"Not at all," Cadoc assured her, shaking his head. "I'm glad you've had a chance to speak with Auron. The two of you have much in common."

"Well," Auron smiled, patting the small orcess on the back, "it was a pleasure comparing notes, Miss Rukhash. Any time you wish to continue our conversation, feel free to visit."

Rukhash nodded, a pleased expression on her face and followed Cadoc out of the tent. The ranger regarded her small, quiet smile. "You made a friend," he noted lightly.

"He were an odd ol' coot," the orcess said offhandedly, "but 'e knew his stuff. Liked talkin' to him."

He did not know much about Rukhash's plants, but Cadoc assumed the orcess would be quite content speaking to someone of Auron's skill. "He seemed very impressed with you," Cadoc told her.

Rukhash shrugged, "I were real impressed with  _him_. Grazad taught me a lot, but lots I had to guess at after she weren't around, an' he's been doin' this sorta thing fer much longer 'n me. Was kinda like talkin' to Grazad without the whip in 'er hand. When she got goin' on 'bout healin' medicines and stitchin up wounds, you could tell she had a lot a knowledge ta give ya. Same with that Auron. He had a ton a stuff in 'is head. Liked seein' how Auron went 'bout his business. Kinda the same and kinda different 'an what I'm used ta. It were real interestin'."

Cadoc thought Rukhash already had a great deal of information catalogued in her head. He wondered how she would do at a physician's academy. Her illiteracy would be an obstacle, but Cadoc knew, if given the opportunity, she would tackle it with the same straightforward determination with which she approached everything else. Frowning, Cadoc sobered this fantasy with the knowledge that she would never be given that opportunity, no matter how much she enjoyed her craft. Orcs were not known for intelligence. Though Rukhash's cleverness proved that notion to the contrary, Cadoc knew she would most likely be met with scorn or violence if she ever attempted to further her education in such a way.

"I'm glad you are having a good time," Cadoc told her, pushing away his somber musings.

The orcess nodded. "Yea," she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. "Thought folks'd be starin' me down the whole time, but they been ignorin' me fer the most part." The orcess frowned thoughtfully. "Kinda hungry though."

Laughing, Cadoc placed a companionable hand on her shoulder. "I am as well," he agreed. "The tavern is not far. Let's get something to eat. I have something to give you."

"Yea?" Rukhash said, sounding excited. "Like what?"

"You'll see when we get some food," Cadoc told her, enjoying her enthusiasm.

As the pair walked through the soft light of the lanterns, Rukhash suddenly felt a little less vindictive towards Morwen. Getting dolled up seemed to put the people around her at ease, and the orcess was glad for that. She was fairly sure she had never had such a fascinating night in all her life. The race of men was odd, and a little baffling at times, but the orcess was beginning to think they might all not be so bad.

* * *

**Last Edited: June 2014**


	18. Revelations

**Splint  
Chapter 18 Revelations**

* * *

Rukhash ran her black fingers along the gold designs carefully lain on the dark leather cover of the book Cadoc gave her. There were sprawling trees filled with fantastic birds unlike the orcess had ever seen. The border was decorated with strange, monstrous shapes, troll like things and orc like things and things that had no earthly name, with squid arms and animal heads. The pictures inside were just as amazing, and each set told its own story that she could guess at even without knowing the words.

"I ain't never had nothin' so fine," she said, awed by the gesture.

Cadoc smiled at her from across the table. They had just finished eating, and Cadoc ordered them another round of drinks and gave her the book he had bought her. Despite a little sputtering from the proprietor, Cadoc was able to secure them a small table out of sight, where no one would be able to gawk at them. Despite a few queer looks from some passers by, they had been left blissfully alone; and Cadoc was glad for this. It made Rukhash's joy his alone to see.

The orcess leafed through the vellum pages, stopping occasionally to run her hand over the delicately painted woodcuts. Cadoc noticed that she gravitated towards the monsters; the drawings of trolls or orcs. Though, it was a child's book, so the stories were strangely bloodless; even the great battles. The orcess commented at this, and Cadoc laughed.

"I wondered if you would notice," he said.

Snorting, Rukhash turned the book to reveal a vignette image of an orc with two children spitted on its spear. "You don't stick a pair like that an' not have a little red besides," she criticized.

"Somehow, I had a feeling you would enjoy the pictures," Cadoc told her. "They are cautionary tales, and all of the characters meet with a gruesome end for some personal folly."

"It's nice ta know you've got me fingered so well," she said with a mischievous smile. Turning the book around, the orcess regarded the two, doomed children. "An' what'd these two do?"

"They did not heed their mother's words," Cadoc replied, knowing the tale from when he was a lad, and his father had read the same story to him.

Rukhash's brow raised dubiously as she glanced up at Cadoc. "Their mum musta told 'em some important shit."

Cadoc laughed and took a sip of his fresh beer.

Rukhash ran her claw along the large words clustered at the top of the page, looking thoughtful. "My old dad tried to teach me letters. Never had the patience fer it."

"Really?" Cadoc asked, surprised. "Your father knew how to read?"

"Aw sure," Rukhash said. "Dad were real smart. Knew his numbers too. He used ta draw all the plans fer the catapults and siege engines an' shit. Figured out a way ta make broadswords real quick like, by designin' moulds that could be made a clay a bunch at a time an' filled wit' steel an broke open. Sharky wouldn'ta been able to find 'is arse without my dad."

Cadoc wasn't sure if Rukhash's praise was true to fact or a daughter's adoration. "Is that so?"

Rukhash nodded emphatically. "Could even do numbers with letters  _in_  em. 'Ats how 'e figured out angles and squares an shit. He showed me some a that an it were just confusin', but I could do numbers well enough, I guess. There were less a them than there were a letters ta remember."

Cadoc's brow furrowed. "Are you saying your father knew geometry?" The ranger wondered at that: an orc engineer.

Rukhash shrugged. "That what that is? Then, I guess 'e knew it."

"Is that where you get your cleverness from: your father?" Cadoc asked.

Rukhash wrinkled her nose. "Mum were plenty smart. She didn't have smarts like dad, but she didn't have to. She were a breeder, so she were stuck in the dens, but mum's the one who always told me not to do any stupid shit 'fore I knew what would come back on me. She could plan ahead a dozen steps. Could read folks an' figure 'em out, jus' like they was books. Knew where to throw 'er weight around an' when ta leave shit alone. She were real wise, my mum. All the girls in our den used ta listen ta her. If she'd been a lad I'd bet she woulda been a Captain, easy. Kragolnauk asked 'er questions all the time. Always thought it were how 'e got ta be a higher-up, 'cause a mum."

Cadoc pondered that for a moment. Rukhash's mother must have been an impressive woman. "Then I suppose you are the best of them both," Cadoc said with a smile. He had no idea Rukhash so adored her parents.

The orcess snorted. "I guess. Always thought Botarg took more after mum than me."

"That is your sister that threw you in with the wargs?" Cadoc asked.

"Yeah," Rukhash growled. "Fuck that bint, but she were real tough like mum. I 'ad ta be more clever with shit. Sneakier, I guess. All my brothers an' sisters woulda run all over me otherwise. Bogdish were always tryin' ta get me inta trouble. Dart an' Redek were always tryin' ta step on me, but they was a couple a cunts. Thraangzi were the only one real decent ta me."

Cadoc frowned, thoughtful. "How many siblings did you have?"

"I were fourteen a seventeen, but Hodak an' Podash were dead by the time I were born," the orcess informed, then grinned. "Mum always called me 'er lucky sprog." Rukhash turned suddenly somber. "Guess I really were the lucky one, since I'm all 'ats left."

The orcess frowned and took a sip of her drink. "Thanks fer this," she said at last, holding up the book. "Wish I 'ad somethin' ta give ya back."

Cadoc shook his head. "A gift does not require compensation. I saw it and thought of you, since you are so fond of the pictures in the books I have." Cadoc laced his fingers and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Besides," he added quietly, "I feel as though you have done enough for me already, and I want you to have something to remember me by; on the day when we finally part ways."

A gentle expression crossed Rukhash's features. "I'm pretty sure I won't ever forget you," she said with a small, sad smile. "With or without some book."

Rukhash watched Cadoc's mouth open, as if he meant to reply to her, but his eyes suddenly narrowed angrily. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

She could not remember ever hearing Cadoc curse, but before Rukhash could tease him about her own bad influence, a round of slurred swearing reached her ears, and she was assailed by a strong reek of cheap booze and sweat. Turning and leaning forward – so she could see around the high back of the wooden booth – the orcess caught sight of two men. One had his arm slung around the other, his dark, stringy hair pulled back into a tight horsetail and his pale face red with inebriation. The other was a squatter, heavier set gray haired man who seemed a little less – but not by much – drunk. They were standing in front of a booth towards the window, several feet away, speaking to four of their comrades.

The sable haired man turned towards Rukhash, his wide, idiot grin dying as he caught sight of her. "Oi," the man said, pointing his mug towards her, "speak of the devil..." The man stumbled towards the pair of them, his stupid grin returning.

It had been a long time since Rukhash saw someone this drunk. Not since she was small and one of her older brothers died. On the occasions when he lost a son, Kragolnauk could drink to the point of near pickling.

That wobbly legged audacity seemed to fill this man. He collapsed against the back of the booth, directly behind the orcess. "And you  _are_  a devil, ain't ya?" the man said, souring the air and smiling at her like a madman. Then, he turned to Cadoc. "You dressing orcs in petticoats, ranger? Is that how we're fighting them now?"

A slow, angry breath whistled out of Cadoc's nose. "Why don't you mind your own affairs, Baladnor," the ranger said, and it sounded more like an order than a suggestion.

Rukhash blinked, stunned as Baladnor fell into the booth next to Rukhash and put a sweaty arm around her shoulders. He really  _was_  wasted out of his gourd. "But it  _is_  my affair, friend," he said. Baladnor met the orcess's bewildered gaze. "I'm an orc hunter you know," he whispered loudly, "but I hear you're a  _friendly_  orc." Raising the volume of his voice, Baladnor pointed an accusing finger at Cadoc. "Just how  _friendly_  have you two gotten?"

Well versed in dealing with drunken arseholes, Rukhash shoved hard and pushed Baladnor clear off of the bench and onto the floor. "Not as friendly as my fist'll be with your face, fucking  _tark pushdug_!" she growled.

Cadoc was on his feet, towering over Baladnor as he struggled to stand, stumbling back a few paces. "You're defending that  _thing_?" Baladnor sneered.

Rukhash slipped between the two of them, her eyes hard. "You got words fer me?" she asked with a low growl. "Say 'em then."

Swaying a bit, Baladnor laughed in her face. Reaching to grab Rukhash's mug from the table, he held it up amiably in the space between them. "No words," he said. "A toast: to the honored dead, killed by  _orcs_." Baladnor raised the glass higher and turned towards his friends. "To Dembend, slain in the White Mountains..."

A small, awkward cheer went up from the orc hunters' table.

Throwing payment for their meal on the table, Cadoc stepped behind Rukhash, leading her forward as Baladnor began to rattle off names. "Let's go," the ranger said quietly. The room was angled at the corner, forcing the two to pass Baladnor's table as the hunters cheered each of their fallen comrades, their voices becoming more boisterous with each name. These names meant nothing to Rukhash. A bundle of fools that should have stayed at home.

They were almost to the door, but Baladnor shouted even louder, so they, and everyone around them, could hear. "To poor, old Dran," Baladnor bellowed, "torn to pieces in the Misty Mountains."

Rukhash stilled; her blood ran cold. That name! That  _voice_ …  _This way Dran. There's a heap of 'em in here.*_

Turning, the orcess looked again at the man that had soured her night, and saw  _him_. He was older, more worn looking, but his eyes were the same blue, his face the same shape. His scent! How could she miss his scent? Drowned under alcohol, but there and the same. A reek she should have never forgotten.

She had to be sure. Pushing past Cadoc, she made her way back towards Baladnor in three, easy strides and tore open the front of his shirt with one quick motion. There, in the center of his abdomen, was a puckered scar, like his skin had been sucked into his belly. It was black; the result of orc poison Rukhash had made herself and given to Shapag to sweeten her warrior blade.

Even seeing the proof, she could not believe it was possible. She had run him through. He should be  _dead_.

The whole of the tavern was shocked into frozen silence. Baladnor stared down at Rukhash with disgust and utter bafflement. The orcess raised her eyes to his, bared her fangs, and snarled.

"I  _killed_  you," she hissed.

Baladnor's eyes lit with recognition and sharpened, as if waking from a long, hazy dream. When he spoke, his voice was a mixture of resentment and horror. " _You!_ "

" _Murderer!_ " she roared and leapt for him.

There were strong arms around her suddenly, pinning her arms to her side and pulling her back from her prey. Through the din of her wrath she heard women screaming, and a vaguely familiar voice yelling "Get Back!" Rukhash could only see one of the men who slew her kin. Everything else was red, red, red. A black hate filled her like she had not known since The Eye's dark spirit dwelled in her soul. She roared and writhed and hissed against the arms that held her.

_Blood!_  her heart raged.  _Rend the flesh! Crush the bones! Kill him! Kill him!_

__

She was thrown to the ground, and someone was sitting on her waist, holding her down. He grabbed her wrists and Rukhash whipped her neck to the side and caught flesh in her teeth. She tasted blood, but it wasn't the blood she was after.

Cadoc gritted his teeth against the pain. He couldn't believe she just bit him! Rukhash's eyes suddenly focused, as if she was seeing Cadoc for the first time. Her jaws released his arm and Cadoc pinned her wrists down next to her head. She wasn't fighting him now. Rukhash stared up at Cadoc, completely dazed. Her pupils had contracted so that they were nothing but slits in her yellow eyes, but now they were a normal, rounder shape. Whatever possessed her seemed to subside, and Cadoc was once again looking at Rukhash, and not the beast that had nearly torn Baladnor to pieces.

"Rukhash?" Cadoc said her name in hopes she would respond; give him some kind of explanation. The orcess stared up at him, silent and completely confused; searching his face as if she thought he might hold some answer to her sudden, violent outburst.

"Cadoc," a voice called from behind.

It was Magistrate Halbard with a half dozen deputies pointing their drawn swords at him and Rukhash. Halbard's expression was grim, and his tone brooked no argument. "Your orc is coming with us."

* * *

"There is nothing you could have done," Edda reasoned as she dabbed the bite wound on Cadoc's arm with water.

"I should have done  _something_ ," he growled, angry with himself. Rukhash had looked completely bewildered as Halbard's deputies hauled her off. She didn't even fight them as they chained her and dragged her into the judicial building. Meanwhile, he stood by and did nothing, held at bay by two other deputies and Halbard's reproving glare.

"Like what?" Edda scolded. "Fight off six armed men bare handed? You did more than enough, making sure she didn't lay a scratch on that drunk fool. They would have cut off her head in the village square if she so much as touched him."

Edda laid her hand on the low, wood table, steadying herself. The innkeeper had been good enough to give Cadoc his own room, and now Edda was glad she insisted on it. She wanted to have a conversation with Cadoc in private. "What happened?" she asked her brother.

"I'm...not sure," Cadoc stumbled, trying to find words for what transpired in the tavern. "Baladnor made a scene, and mocked her, but we were ready to leave and she seemed fine. Annoyed by him, but not angry." Furrowing his brow, he remembered the orcess exposing Baladnor's scar, and the recognition he saw on the man's face. "He knew her, Edda."

"What?" Edda asked, baffled, as she wrapped Cadoc's wound. "How would Baladnor know Rukhash?"

Cadoc glared at his sister. Sometimes, she could be quite dense. "How would and  _orc hunter_  know and orc, Edda?"

Edda gasped into her hand. "No... you don't think..."

"She bared his scar, the one from the injury that crippled him. Before she started roaring and swearing in her own tongue, she called him a  _murderer_. I heard her quite clearly. I'm fairly sure everyone heard that."

Edda eased into the chair next to her brother, stunned. "He is one of the men that killed her family... her poor children." A startled realization came to Edda. " _She_  is the one that injured him."

Cadoc ground his jaw angrily. Baladnor would seek revenge now. Perhaps it was better that he did not gain Rukhash's freedom right away. She would be safer under guard. The former orc hunter had no friends among Halbard's men.

Edda laid a gentle hand on Cadoc's shoulder. "We will see that this is made right. She should not suffer for something done long ago and in her own defense. In truth,  _you_  are the only one she assaulted this night. Baladnor has no claim to her."

Edda lifted her hand from Cadoc's dark vest and nearly screamed. It was covered in fresh blood. "Cadoc, your shoulder!"

Swallowing thickly, Cadoc realized he must have torn the stitches Rukhash sewed on him the prior evening. "Edda, it's nothing."

"Take off your shirt," Edda demanded.

"I will see to it..."

"Cadoc, take off your shirt or I will gather Elador and have him hold you down while  _I_  do it." Edda's nostrils were flaring. She refused to let it be.

Dutifully, slowly, Cadoc pulled off his vest and peeled his blood soaked shirt from his shoulder, baring himself from the waist up. Edda stared at the four, stitched gashes mutely.

"Are these claw marks?" she said at last.

"It was an accident," Cadoc sighed, suddenly very weary.

"Did Rukhash do this to you?" Edda sounded nearly frantic. "These are stitched and scabbed over. You didn't get these tonight. Did she scratch you and sew it up?"

"She didn't mean to do it," Cadoc said quietly, searching his mind for a plausible reason, aside from the actual reason, Rukhash would claw his shoulder.

Edda pressed the cloth to his wound, sopping up the fresh blood until the wound stopped bleeding. The stitches had only torn a little. "Has she been hurting you, and you are saying nothing?"

"What?" Cadoc nearly shouted. "Of course not," he said, lowering his voice. Though he could not see her face, he could hear the gears turning in Edda's head.

"How did you get these?" she pressed. "What 'accident' occurred?"

Cadoc stilled, and willed his face not to turn red. They had promised to keep their affair quiet, and Cadoc did not want Edda to discover their indiscretions in this fashion. He remained silent.

"Cadoc," Edda said sternly.

Edda rounded him, and returned to his seat by his side. He could not meet her gaze. Instead, he concentrated on the lazy flutter of the long, green curtains on that window. He felt his sister's eyes bore into him, unrelenting.

"Cadoc," Edda started, calmly. "Why would Rukhash scratch your shoulder and then sew it up? Did you fight? Did she lose her temper with you as she lost it with Baladnor?"

"It was nothing like that!" Cadoc insisted, and immediately scolded himself.

Edda quietly regarded her brother. Something about his wound troubled her. They were four, deep marks running horizontally across his shoulder blade, but there was a fifth mark, where the thumb claw would have been, lighter and not requiring stitches, on the top of those four marks. With a numb understanding, Edda half stood and embraced her brother, lightly running her fingers perfectly through the wound Rukhash left on his back. Cadoc was utterly still and silent.

When she released him and sat back at her seat, she searched his eyes, but his gaze refused to meet hers. His neck was bright red. Edda bit her lip. "You two have been spending a great deal of time together, alone in that cottage," she whispered. "I am surprised I didn't realize it sooner."

"This is not how I wanted you to find out," he told her quietly.

It all made sense with that confession. Rukhash's sudden interest in doing their laundry. The meals they took alone, together, instead of with the family. The subtle glances. Edda swallowed thickly. "How long has this been going on?"

"A fortnight," Cadoc sighed and laced his fingers, laying his forehead on his folded hands.

It was a little overwhelming to contemplate. Edda liked Rukhash well enough and she could completely understand Cadoc's friendship with the orcess, but a relationship like this? Edda was not sure  _what_  to think of that. Curious, she asked, "Do you love her?" Edda was not sure if she wanted an answer, but a part of her had to know.

Cadoc raised his eyes to hers, unsure. "I... don't know," he admitted. "I am afraid to love her, I think. I am not sure if her kind feels love in the same way we do. Besides, she intends to go back to her people. She has desires that I do not know if I can fill, and she seeks a station that will give her life meaning. She will not find that here."

Feeling a little better that Cadoc had made no long term plans, that he still intended to stay the course he had set out from the start, her expression brightened. "You have always loved the wild things of this world," Edda said with a knowing smile. "I can think of nothing wilder than Rukhash."

Cadoc laughed, a faint, rasping sound. "Somehow, little sister," he said with bleak humor, "I think living among orcs is a little too wild. Even for me. I would see her home, and safe, and out of that prison."

Edda nodded, understanding. "We will do everything we can to get her out of there. You have my word on that, Cadoc."

* * *

_* Because it's been a while, I will encourage you to go back to chapter 4 and read the end._


	19. Hate

**Splint**

**Chapter 19 Hate**

**AN:**   Most of this is a flashback, and I apologize for that now, because I've established all of my flashbacks/dreams in italics. I'm sorry if it musses with anyone's eyes. At least they aren't bolded ;P

* * *

_There was a warm puff of air in her face. "Mum," said a rough, tiny voice. "Mum!"_

_Rukhash cracked open one, weary eye. She was too tired to play right now. "Bugger off Rangmau. Mum's sleepin'."_

_Rukhash closed her eyes again, pulling a large, deerskin blanket over her shoulders and settling onto her side, but Rangmau proceeded to climb on top of her mother, perching her tiny body on the orcess's hip. Grunting, Rukhash pushed the girl off, and Rangmau tumbled backwards on to the fur bedding at Rukhash's back. The little orcess giggled, a twittering, animal sound, and leaned over her mother's head to stare at Rukhash's profile._

_"Mum," Rangmau whispered, breathing into her ear._

_Rukhash growled, not bothering to open her eyes. She could feel Raugvarg stirring at her breast, rolling over to have his breakfast. At a day old, he could already hold up his head and get around by rolling. Rukhash felt his tiny mouth clamp onto her nipple, and he started sucking greedily._

_Now, painfully awake, Rukhash turned her head to look at her daughter. "What is it, mite?"_

_Rangmau had gone quiet, curiously observing her new brother. "Wassat feel yike?" the girl asked as she watched Rangmau nurse. "Issit yike 'en da doesit to yuh?" Orcs were not shy about coupling, especially not in front of their young. Rangmau already had a firm grasp of the birds and the bees, even if she was far too young to feel the desire to act on her knowledge._

_Rukhash propped her head on her hand and pulled Raugvarg closer so he had better purchase. "Nar," the orcess told her daughter, "not a bit. When yer dad does it it makes me wanna fuck, when yer brother's at it, it makes me sleepy." Rukhash yawned toothily. Raugvarg was a large whelp, and she was still not fully recovered from birthing him. Rukhash felt as though she could sleep for another whole day._

_There was a loud commotion beyond the little inlet she had her pallet set up in. Rukhash holed up in a small cubby, away from the main den, so she could enjoy a nice, quiet place to labor, but there was enough noise in the larger cavern to disrupt the wildlife for a mile around. Rukhash could hear the snarling orders of Chief Naghúrz, followed by the rough laughter of some of the lads. Anbagûrz's barking guffaws brought a smile to Rukhash's lips. Shapag's high, gravel voice rose above all of them: "Where shall we stick 'em first?" Drautran and Gazluk were somewhere, cackling like a pair of maniacs._

_Rukhash frowned. "What's goin' on, mite?"_

_Rangmau giggled into her small, dark hands. "Da's back wit' duh seef an' duh yads."_

_Rukhash's gaze slid towards her daughter. The girl had more to tell her, that much the orcess was sure of. Rangmau was covering her mouth, stifling laughter. The girl's eyes were filled with mischief. "What else, 'en, lil imp?" Rukhash growled playfully, reaching back to ruffle Rangmau's dark, thick nest of hair._

_"Dey foun' a man," Rangmau whispered excitedly, her orange eyes round with anticipation._

_Rukhash's brow rose, interested. The rabble rousing outside seemed spirited, and Rangmau's wriggling eagerness would suggest that the man they found was a captive and not an attacker. Not that a single man would be foolish enough to challenge a whole clan of Uruk hai, but Rukhash still relaxed, knowing there was no danger about._

_Chief Naghúrz's large, scarred face peeked in through the narrow opening of Rukhash's nest. He snorted loudly. "Yuh know why I'm here before Anbagûrz," the chief said, gruffly._

_Rukhash nodded and slowly pushed herself up to sit cross legged, adjusting her blanket so it lay over her shoulders. She was naked otherwise, and a little cold with her weariness. Rangmau sat comfortably next to her mother, eyeing the chief warily as he shimmied through the narrow crevice, grunting. Finally, Naghúrz squeezed himself into the larger space past the mouth and came to squat in front of Rukhash. He was a large Uruk, and nearly filled the whole of Rukhash's little birthing den. His mottled, bald head touched the rocky ceiling, despite the fact that he had made himself as small as possible_

_"Gar, woman. Don't know why yuh birth in the smallest fucking hole," Naghúrz groused. "Must be that snaga blood a yers." Holding out his monstrous palm, he regarded the orcess seriously. "Let's see 'im, healer."_

_Rukhash gently disengaged Raugvarg from her breast. The newborn mewled in protest as she passed him on to the chief. Naghúrz gripped the boy by the scruff of his neck and held him up for inspection, sniffing the infant carefully and checking his hands and feet. Rukhash sat quietly through this, unworried. She had already looked over her son. If she had found any issue, she would have smothered him herself. They managed well enough on their mountain, but they were not so well off as to take care of deformed whelps._

_Raugvarg growled, annoyed with the rough treatment. Naghúrz gave the boy a wide, fanged grin and handed him back to his mother. "That's a lad," Naghúrz said, nodding approvingly. "He'll be a big 'un like his old dad," the chief paused, his green eyes twinkling kindly, "but if he's lucky he'll get his mum's smarts."_

_Rukhash smiled at that. Naghúrz had always been real decent to her, even when she joined his group as a scrawny adolescent. She had helped Grazad stitch up the monstrous former Captain back in Lugbúrz, weeks before the tower fell, and he returned the favor by giving her, not only a place among the survivors that joined him, but a high position in the tribe. Naghúrz saw the wisdom in having a female versed in medicine and midwifery in his group, and Rukhash rarely had to worry about fighting for her share in the hunts, even before she and Anbagûrz were shaûk. As the clan's healer, her portion was secure._

_Raugvarg attached himself once again to Rukhash's breast and continued his meal. The chief smirked rakishly. "Think he'll leave some fer me?" Naghúrz said, licking his teeth. Naghúrz seemed to always be hitting on her, even if he'd never bothered to do anything more._

_With an amused snort, Rukhash gave him a light punch in the arm. "I'm sure Lagluf's got somethin' fer you ta suck on," she said with a smirk._

_Naghúrz grunted uncomfortably and wrinkled his wide, flat nose. Lagluf enjoyed a good blow job, especially from another male, and despite being Akbrog's shaûk, Lagluf gave the older Naghúrz adoring moon eyes most of the time. "I'd just as well leave 'im to Akbrog," the chief growled and turned to wriggle back out of Rukhash's hole._

_Ducking his head back in, Naghúrz pointed at Rangmau, who had been sitting like a quiet little sprite the whole time. "Oi, sprog, come out an' have some fun with the other mites. Old Naghúrz's gonna let you kids have a go at the man."_

_Rangmau squealed and looked excitedly at her mother. "Go on, then," Rukhash told her, smiling. The little orcess jumped to her feet and scurried after Naghúrz's shadow._

_"She's there in 'er hidey hole," Rukhash heard Naghúrz say to someone just outside._

_Anbagûrz's head blotted out the entire entrance. He grunted at Rukhash, his blood red eyes going gentle. When he had first joined their group, Anbagûrz had been suffering from a tremendous head wound; a gash that had sliced open the frontal part of his cranium along with his helmet. Though Rukhash was able to save his life, the large Mordor Berserker woke with an inability to speak well. Rukhash sometimes wondered if he always had this issue, or if it was his injury that managed it. Either way, it caused him no end of grief. The others would often tease him, but Rukhash knew that her Anbagûrz was much smarter than he let on. Perhaps not book smarts, like her father had been, or the smarts a leader would have, but definitely battle prowess. He was one of the better hunters, which was why the chief let him stay on with them._

_From the moment he opened his eyes in his sickbed, Rukhash always seemed to know what he was saying, even if he could barely say it. Rukhash scooted towards the entrance, recognizing that Anbagûrz would not be able to enter. The orcess held up their son so Anbagûrz could hold him. The berserker was able to fit the large infant in his cupped hands. He held the boy carefully, as if he were afraid that he might break the child._

_"Been callin' him Raugvarg," Rukhash told her mate. Anbagûrz nodded, looking pleased, and Rukhash reached up to lay her hand against his cheek. "He gave me a bit a trouble. If yer todger needs a yank, hope ya don't mind buggerin' Drautran."_

_Anbagûrz snorted, amused, and nuzzled her hand. "Go out?" he asked her in a slow, careful way, as if the words were difficult to form. "Watch?"_

_Rukhash nodded, understanding. She was curious about this man they caught, and though she was sore and tired, her bleeding had stopped completely. Anbagûrz handed his son back to her, and Rukhash cradled the boy in her arm. She pulled the large deerskin around her a little more tightly as she took Anbagûrz's arm and allowed him to help her stand. She was glad for his solid strength as they made their way down the short tunnel that led to the main cave. Her legs felt like a new faun's, and all of the orcess's concentration was focused on holding her son._

_Anbagûrz lowered her gently to the floor in a quiet corner of the main cave. Rukhash inwardly smiled at his thoughtfulness. He knew that she wasn't in any condition to be jostled around. She watched her mate join the others crowded around the man. They had already done a nice job of softening him up. His whole face was a purple, mushy mess, but he was still alive and half stripped and moaning pitifully._

_This would be the fifth man that had unknowingly wandered into their territory in the past six years. The noseless fools were not able to pick out the scent markings that the boys dutifully laid out once a week. Naghúrz wouldn't hear of raids. That was work for reckless bachelors. They were family men, with breeding females and young to think about. The chief knew raiding was a recipe for trouble, especially considering there was no longer a White Hand or Red Eye to give them shelter from their enemies. Raids riled up whiteskins, and riled up whiteskins marched on Uruk hai in force. The old, scarred Uruk didn't want any humans following raiders back to their cozy den, so Naghúrz said_ nar _to requests for raiding and wanton slaughter. In the early months after The Eye's fall, a few, rowdy lads had been sent on their way when they couldn't follow those orders. However, travelers and wandering rangers were fair game. Better to do away with snoopers and interlopers before they could bring back mischeif, and if the clan had a little fun in the process, all the better._

_Naghúrz grabbed a pot of piss water and threw it on the man's face. The human immediately became alert, shaking his blonde head and gagging. His dull, blue eyes focused on the ten little orcs sitting around his torso, their multicolored eyes twinkling maliciously in their clever dark faces._

_The man was being held down by two females: Shapag and Nazu, and the pair cackled wickedly as the man panicked and started struggling, shouting in his own, strange tongue. The little orclings were on their heels, waiting for a sign from their leader. Naghúrz did not make them wait long._

_In one, smooth motion, the chief slit the man's belly from button to sternum, and the man started screaming. Rukhash couldn't help but laugh. The howl of a dying orc was enough to send a shiver down her spine, but screaming tarks were always amusing; with their high-pitched, cracking voices. The man screamed and screamed and Rukhash laughed so hard she thought her side would split. She was glad she had left her little nest._

_"Have at it sprogs!" Naghúrz bellowed, and ten little orcs dived into the man's innards. The human's screaming reached a frantic pitch and suddenly died out. Rukhash watched, proud, as her tiny daughter scrambled over the larger Uruk children and pulled a mess of bloody tubes from the man's belly. Rangmau fell backwards, tumbling over some of her clan siblings, and tangling herself in long, pink intestines._

_Anbagûrz gently lifted his daughter from a snarl of innards, and sorted her out of the tangle, looping the intestines in a loose rope and handing the girl her prize. It made Rukhash happy that he was so good with her. Rukhash's own father had been just as attentive – as much as his work allowed – but Kragolnauk almost never spent time with his daughters. Rukhash was glad, for Rangmau, that her Anbagûrz was not the latter sort._

_Naghúrz and Ragbad began carving the man up, while the rest of the males tended to butchering the two deer they had also bagged. Rukhash yawned, feeling sleepy despite all of the excitement going on around her. She allowed herself to doze, knowing Anbagûrz would save her some food. He knew how much she liked venison._

_Before sleep claimed her, Rukhash had a thought: This was the peace she'd hoped for since she lost her mother and sisters. After starting over again and again, she would finally live a normal life, and die old and creased with her shaûk by her side and dozens of her children and grandchildren around her. That was how her granddad died, and that was how Rukhash wanted it to be for her. It was, perhaps, not a warrior's desire, but Rukhash was no warrior._

__

* * *

She should have died with them.

That was all Rukhash could think about as she stared at the cold, stone walls of her cell. They were her family, and she ran on them. She couldn't even avenge them properly. What good had surviving done her? She was alive and alone, trapped in a whiteskin prison, looking like some fake  _tark_  woman in a borrowed dress. Rukhash doubted she had the right to call herself an orc anymore.

She half expected the guards to beat her. She  _wanted_  them to, at least then she could hate them properly. They brought her gruel, cautiously pushing it through the bars of the cell. They gave her pitying looks when her resolve would weaken and she would weep, remembering and despising herself. She hated the guards anyway. They were  _tarks_ , and  _tarks_ had only brought her grief.

Edda visited her. Cadoc's sister brought her a change of clothes, another dress, but one of the old ones. Edda stood in front of the bars, holding the large, square shawl up while the orcess changed, so she could protect Rukhash's modesty; as if Rukhash had ever had any modesty to begin with. Rukhash wanted to kill Cadoc's sister, with her doe eyed sympathy and her soft words and her second hand clothes, but Rukhash found she couldn't kill Edda. It was hard to kill someone you started to think of as kin.

Morwen and Wulf, stood outside her cell and tried to persuade her to eat. Edda's children were poor replacements for her own, but somehow they had come to replace Rangmau and Raugvarg anyway. So, Rukhash ate, even though she felt like every spoonful was killing her.

Rukhash despised Cadoc most of all. She hated him for trying to understand her, and for trying to help her. She hated his affection and what it had done to her. She hated the comfort he tried to give her when he visited. She hated the hope he tried to instill in her: he still thought she would be freed and they would go to Mordor. She hated his promise. Most of all, she hated that she still cared about him.

Rukhash sat in her cell, bitter and alone, and remembered what it was to hate.


	20. The Kindness of Men

**Splint**

**Chapter 20 The Kindness of Men**

* * *

Cadoc was not sure what had come to dwell in that cell, but it was not Rukhash. The orcess barely spoke, and she would only eat if he pestered her about it. She rarely left the corner, glaring at the wall as if it had also done her an injustice. Her despair had become a palpable thing. He felt guilty for bringing here to his village to face her painful memories, but how was he to know? And why was her anger focused as much on him as Baladnor? She growled and snapped more than she spoke to him. Had what they shared meant nothing? Had he simply been a pleasant diversion from the monotony of her isolation?

Halbard felt she was too dangerous to release. The magistrate feared she would attempt vengeance on Baladnor, and justly so, in Cadoc's opinion. Few could forget the rage at the tavern. It had terrified any who witnessed it. Edda and Cadoc insisted that Rukhash be spared, and Halbard agreed not to execute her for the simple act of disturbing the peace. However, the magistrate refused to allow her to wander freely.

"I will hold her here until the last snow," the magistrate had told Cadoc, "and I will watch her. If I believe she will not cause harm, I will release her into your custody. Your promise to her will become your charge. You will see that she leaves this place peacefully and returns to her people." Magistrate Halbard was very clear about the consequences if Rukhash managed to escape his watchful eye and seek revenge on Baladnor. Cadoc would be held responsible for any and all of her actions while she was with him.

Edda had stopped visiting with the children after the second week of Rukhash's imprisonment. Cadoc's sister was not privy to Rukhash's violent temper at the tavern, and Cadoc had softened the details for her, but those details were soon described to Edda by those who witnessed the incident. Her discomfort with that knowledge was obvious, as was Elador's. Rukhash's behavior when they visited didn't help matters. More than her morose disposition, Rukhash would snarl at any kindness they showed her, or give them dirty looks when they tried to comfort her.

"What is wrong with her?" Edda asked Cadoc after a particularly disquieting visit. Edda had tried to persuade the guard to allow them in the cell with the orcess. After all, it had been almost a fortnight since Rukhash had any physical comfort from anyone. Rukhash made up the guard's mind by reaching through the bars, swiping with her claws and snapping at them like an animal.

"I have no idea," Cadoc told her honestly.

However, Edda did not share her knowledge of his relationship with Rukhash, not even with her husband, and for that, Cadoc was grateful. He would not be able to argue in Rukhash's defense if others knew of their trysts, and Cadoc remained determined to find the orcess he had come to know somewhere in the creature that now occupied that cold cell. So, Cadoc pushed aside his misgivings, and continued to visit her, despite the silence she gave him in return. He refused to give up on her, and yet, this seemed to anger her more, and she continued to withdraw from him.

* * *

Edraithur was young and new to guard duty, so he was the poor, unlucky soul stuck on night watch with the orc. His shift started at dusk, around the time Cadoc would leave the orc's cell, weary and troubled by his visit; and last until dawn, when he brought the she orc her breakfast.

He had never seen an orc before Cadoc's orc had come to the village. Edraithur was just a lad when the War came to steal his father and older brother. Though the rumor of Cadoc's orc had spread quickly, the fist time Edraithur caught sight of her was the Winter Festival, before her unfortunate incident in the tavern. She had been watching a mime, and was fooled at first by the clown's antics. Edraithur found himself smiling at her indignation when she realized the mime was simply performing. Even her swearing had been amusing. The she orc was also quite gentle with Hedon and his wife and daughter, after she stormed away embarrassed. Edraithur remembered thinking how normal she looked, despite her beastly features. She had been dressed as any woman would, and hardly appeared to be a danger at all. Magistrate Halbard's ruling in her favor seemed extremely wise at that moment.

Edraithur wasn't quite sure how this could be the same orc. Every night she wept pitifully. Though she was quick to hide it when he made his rounds down the long corridor of cells, turning towards the wall and silencing herself, the young guardsman knew the sound of weeping well. His mother had mourned for many nights after his father and brother had not returned home from battle. Worse than her weeping, by far, were her bouts of rage, when she would howl and curse and drag her claws against the walls. Those nights were certainly terrifying, and her inhuman cries made his blood run cold. Yet, he still found that he pitied the orc. There was a misery in her that Edraithur could not fathom.

The young guard was equally amazed by Cadoc's steadfast defense of her, despite her violent behavior. The ranger visited her every day since she came to be held here sixteen days prior, even though she greeted him with snarling growls or furious silence. Cadoc tried to comfort her with news of the magistrate's decision. While Edraithur could understand if the she orc was not completely pleased with Halbard's ruling, he could not understand why she would throw her chamber pot at the ranger and roar at him. From what Edraithur had gathered, it was Baladnor who had done her injury, not Cadoc.

Cadoc bore her abuse with an almost incomprehensible patience. Edraithur's pity extended to Cadoc as well, and if the young guard was a more superstitious man, he might have believed Baladnor's words that the she orc was a witch. Yet, she seemed to suffer as much as she made the ranger suffer. She had been nearly starving herself since her arrival. Edraithur noticed the dress Edda lend her had grown baggier, her face had become gaunt and sunken. It was almost painful to watch, which he didn't, of course. If he dared to pause at her cell any longer than it took to bring her water or food, she would launch herself at him, clanging against the bars and hissing. Edraithur felt sympathy for her as he would any living thing so tortured, weather it was by her own doing or not, but he was also fairly terrified of her. The she orc's teeth looked very, very sharp.

Edraithur checked in for another long night, stopping at Captain Thrand's desk to pick up the large ring of keys and his weapons: a short sword and gar. Magistrate Halbard was there, making a rare appearance at the guard station.

"Another night with the beast, eh boy?" Captain Thrand said with a knowing smirk. The orc had howled for most of the evening prior. Edraithur doubted there was anyone in the judicial complex that hadn't heard that horrible racket.

"The ranger's with her now," Thrand continued, "so I imagine she'll be quiet for a while, at least."

"He shows her impressive devotion," the magistrate commented casually, stroking his long, pointed beard. "I have known Cadoc for many years, and I must imagine it is well deserved. He has ever held the bearing of an honest man. However, I am not sure how long I can allow this to continue. Her behavior is quite disconcerting."

"You intend to kill her?" Edraithur blurted out, and immediately regretted his concerned tone.

Thrand shot him a dubious look. "Don't tell me you're soft on that creature as well," the captain said, annoyed. "After the trouble she's caused, she is lucky Magistrate Halbard is so honorable. You didn't see her viciousness at the tavern."

That was true. Edraithur was off duty when they apprehended the she orc. "I suppose I feel sorry for her," the young guard admitted.

Halbard exhaled slowly from his nose. "It is a similar pity that has stayed my hand thus far," the magistrate said, thoughtful, "but her conduct these past weeks has been appalling. However, technically, she had not done any true damage during her stay here." Halbard paused, his grey eyes focused on something far away. "I will give her another two weeks. If Cadoc cannot manage to tame her in that time, I will have to write King Elessar on this matter, and seek his council. I am afraid I cannot see the wisest course of action, myself." The magistrate folded his hands behind his back, and turned to leave.

The magistrate paused at the door, not bothering to turn. "Sympathy for another living thing is not a fault, young man," Halbard said, addressing Edraithur, "but see that it does not make you careless in your duty."

"Of course, sir," the young guard conceded. Edraithur had no desire or intension to allow the orc her escape, no matter how sorry he felt for her. He took his responsibilities quite seriously.

The prison was a small wing at the rear of the courthouse. It composed of a long hallway with ten cells on the outer wall. Each had its own, small window, a narrow, barred slit at the utmost corner to allow for fresh air. The jail was not meant for lengthy confinements, but there was no other option for the orcess's incarceration.

As Edraithur descended the long stair from the second story, where the captain's post was located, to the stockade, he became aware of quiet talking in the narrow hallway of cells. Realizing this was the ranger visiting, Edraithur paused at the bottom of the stairway, holding place there while Cadoc finished with his visit. The ranger looked worn and tired and more than a little disheveled. Edraithur wondered if Cadoc had bothered to bathe at all in the past few days, he seemed so unkempt. He was holding a bowl through the bars, trying to persuade the orcess to eat. Edraithur quietly marveled at his daring, the young guard doubted he would be so brave as to stick his arm in a cage with an orc.

Edraithur did not wish to disturb them, but visiting hours were well past over. Roughly clearing his throat, he approached the ranger. Whatever words Cadoc had been saying to the she orc died in his throat, and the ranger straitened from his crouched position, holding the bowl of brown stew towards Edraithur. "See if you can't get her to eat something," Cadoc said, weary and exasperated, as he pushed the bowl into Edraithur's free hand and stalked down the hall and up the stairs.

The young guard stared, bewildered, at the stew sloshing from side to side in the wooden bowl. He approached the cell, cautiously peeking in. The orcess was laying on her side, facing outwards towards the bars with her head resting in the crook of her arm. Her eyes were a dull yellow, staring listlessly at the ground just in front of her nose. She seemed to drape bonelessly on the small, thin mattress that was brought in for her upon her stay. If Edraithur had not noted the subtle rise and fall of her ribcage, he might have though her dead.

Deciding that she seemed to be in a stationary mood, the young guard stepped in front of the cell and gently placed the bowl on the floor, using the butt of his gar to push the stew through the narrow space between the bars and the floor. Relieved that the she orc had not made a move at him, Edraithur nodded brusquely towards her and continued on his rounds. He still needed to assess the perimeter of the western wing.

When he again passed the she orc, Edraithur noticed the bowl remained, untouched, near the bars where he left it. The orcess hadn't seemed to move at all. The young guard paused in front of her cell with a worried thought. She had not eaten in a few days at least, and Edraithur wondered if she had spent the last of her strength on her outbursts the night before. Crouching down, Edraithur used his gar to carefully nudge the bowl closer to her, so it was within reaching distance. Standing, Edraithur was quietly relieved that the she orc hadn't tried to lunge at him.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," the young guard told her. The orc's slitted eyes focused on him briefly, cold and hateful. Edraithur swallowed nervously and backed away from her cell, hurrying down the hall to check in with his captain and take his mid evening meal.

On his third round past her cell, Edraithur realized the bowl had been pushed back towards the bars. Curious, Edraithur peeked into the she orc's cell. She had turned to face the wall, curling into a small ball in the corner. The she orc had not eaten all of her portion, but there was definitely a significant amount missing. The meat had been sorted out, and all that remained were dull yellow carrots and mushy potatoes floating in the thin broth. Edraithur retrieved the bowl from the floor with a small feeling of triumph. Hunger was a difficult enemy to succumb to when food was so close at hand.

The next day, Edraithur curiously noted that Cadoc had not come to see the orcess at all. Since the ranger was the one that usually brought her supper, Edraithur went to the kitchens to procure the she orc's meal. He decided to try the same tactic from the night prior. The orc seemed even more loath to leave her corner. She had curled up on herself with her back to him, the young guard though he heard her breath hitching quietly. Edraithur pushed the bowl to the edge of her mattress and went about his rounds.

_When Edraithur was a lad, he had come across a large badger in their storehouse. The beast had been pilfering from a sack of rye. His family had very little, and with his father and brother gone, he and his mother had even less. Annoyed that this creature was, essentially, robbing them, the young Edraithur tried to chase the badger out with a long log from the woodpile._

_Edraithur didn't want to kill the badger, but he also didn't want the creature fouling up their grain. The badger had hissed and spat, curling itself in the corner of the storehouse. Finally, the badger caught Edraithur's arm with its long, thick claws. This made the boy even angrier, and he struck the beast hard across the brow._

_His cry of pain had brought his mother out to see what was happening. She immediately took hold of him and pulled him away from the badger before Edraithur could cause the creature further injury._

_"He's a mean beast," Edraithur had told his mother as she worried over his arm. The badger was still hissing at them, and Edraithur stood in front of her, his log at the ready, to protect her from the creature._

_"That's enough," his mother said, pulling him into the far corner. "He is only mean because he is afraid, and you are giving him no reason not to be." She held his shoulders, keeping him still as they stood and watched the badger. Eventually the creature calmed and scurried away through a large hole in the wall of the storehouse._

_"There, you see," his mother said gently. "If you had let him be, he would have left on his own, and you wouldn't now have a scratch on your arm."_

_"But he was stealing from us!" Edraithur had argued._

_"We can spare a little rye for a small peace," his mother replied, "but now we should fix that hole, before he returns with fellows."_

There was something in the orcess that reminded Edraithur of that badger, and it had more to do with her hissing and snarling. Word had spread of Baladnor's part in the orcess's past, and Edraithur wondered if the she orc was still loath to trust man, even after the compassion shown to her. Certainly, if the whispered gossip was true, she had more than enough reason to fear. Perhaps, she had been waiting for this moment all along: for the axe to drop. Edraithur didn't know why she was loath to except the good tidings Cadoc and his family had shown her, he wasn't sure he could ever know the mind of an orc, but he was curious to try. If she was given space, she might calm on her own. A proud creature, unaccustomed to gentleness – as Edraithur imagined orcs must be – might not trust their pity or symapthy. Maybe, they were bludgeoning her with kindness.

When he returned to the orc later that evening, Edraithur found that she had, once agin, pushed the bowl to the edge of her cell. It hadn't been touched at all. "I cannot say I completely blame you," he said casually as he bent to pick up the bowl. "Drenador's wife is not exactly the best cook."

The orcess growled from the shadowed darkness in the corner. "Yer a shit guard," she hissed, not bothering to turn and face him.

Edraithur paused. This was the first time she had bothered to speak to him in the long weeks since her arrest. "Oh?" he said, and tried to keep the nervousness from his voice. "Why is that?"

The she orc tilted her head towards him, her yellow eyes cold with derision. "Fuckin' scared a me, ain't ya?" she said, and Edraithur noticed the shadows shift across her face as she smiled cruelly, showing off her sharp teeth. "You  _should_  be scared, fucking  _pushdug_. Quit bein' friendly and sod off."

"I have noticed," Edraithur said as casually as he could, "that you do not take well to kindness. Orcs must be a cruel folk indeed, if they hate gentleness so."

The she orc snarled and jumped to her feet, crossing the short distance of her cell to bang her forearm against the metal bars. Edraithur had no idea she could move so fast, and he jumped back in spite of himself. "Kindness?" she growled. "Where were yer  _kindness_  when they were killin' my mate? Where were yer  _kindness_  when they cut my kids' throats? Where were yer fucking  _kindness_  then?" The orcess panted heavily; every breath was a snarl in her throat.

Edraithur swallowed anxiously. "I am sorry that you have not known man's compassion until now, but I am afraid you will not find the mistreatment you expect here."

"That ain't fucking fair," the she orc gritted through her teeth. Turning, the orcess collapsed onto her mattress, covering her face. "You can't take it back," she half sobbed through her fingers. "I ain't gonna let you trick me. I won't fucking forget it. Won't let you fucking arseholes make me forget them."

"I do not believe," Edraithur said slowly, feeling a little put out by her attitude, "that anyone is trying to trick you. It seems to me that you are tricking yourself. You are the one behaving viciously, not us. Any reprisal you expect would occur because of your own actions. Magistrate Halbard is a fair man. I would think, considering the protection he had shown you, that you would realize that."

"I find it odd," Edraithur pondered out loud, "that you would invoke the memory of your family to call up our sympathy only to throw that sympathy in our faces. You seek understanding, and when you have it, you abhor it. It is quite hypocritical."

The she orc stared at him with an unbelieving expression. Her eyes darted around briefly, as if she were searching for an appropriate retort. Instead, her face screwed up into a mask of rage. "Fuck you!" she snarled and turned away from him, throwing herself along the length of her bed.

Deciding he no longer wished to understand this creature, Edraithur continued his rounds. When the time came for him to check the long corridor of cells, Edraithur endeavored not to attempt further conversation with the she orc. Her mind obviously twisted any manner of courtesy shown towards her. That much was obvious in how she treated Cadoc and his family. They had welcomed the orc into their home only to be rewarded with her hatred.

As he passed her cell, Edraithur's gaze slid sideways in a casual glance. He had expected to see her where she had collapsed upon her bed. Instead, she was pressed against the bars. Before he could react, her hand shot out and grabbed his forearm. For a terrified moment, Edraithur thought she would pull him towards her sharp teeth, but she made no move to savage him. Her grip on his arm was firm, but did no more than hold him where he was. Edraithur put his hand on the hilt of his sword anyway.

She was staring at him with a determined expression, her eyes hard. "You hate us and we hate you an' that's the way it is. It shouldn't be no fucking different."

Edraithur's grip tightened on his sword. "Cadoc's behavior would suggest that he does not hate  _you_ ," the young guard reasoned. "In fact, it would appear the opposite from an outside perspective. He shows you the love of a true friend, and you seem to want to repay that love with derision."

The she orc's mouth firmed. "I never asked for that!" she growled, her grip on Edraithur's arm tightening. "I were just fuckin' lonely, an' he weren't playin' along. Kept looking down his nose at me. I wanted him to see he weren't any better. Your folk ain't any better 'n us!"

She swallowed thickly, releasing his arm, and Edraithur found himself remaining there, interested in what she had to say. The orc tuned to look at the ground. "I wanted him to feel guilty, but then he had ta go an' be all... friendly about things, an' I liked havin' a friend again. Shit got out of fuckin' hand. Next thing I know he's bringin' me home and I meet his fucking kin. I tried to leave an' go back to my cave and forget about the lot of 'em but I fucking couldn't."

The orc looked at Edraithur pointedly, a sick expression on her face. "I told 'em... I said I was in bad straits, that my cave were sacked, but it were just like I left it when I went back. It were makin' me fucking sick. I just wanted to forget what happened. I didn't want to be sittin' there no more...alone... just survivin' an' rememberin' what a shit job I done. I ran when them men came. It shouldn't a mattered 'at I come back too late an' everyone were dead already. An Uruk hai woulda died beside 'er clan. She woulda took down as many a them bastards as she could, not run like a fucking  _snaga_  coward."

"An' everyone here were so fucking  _decent_ ," she was weeping now, her forehead pressed against the bars. "It started ta feel like my family, an' I almost forgot 'em. Til' I saw that _bastard_ ," the orcess growled low in her throat. "Then I remembered.  _Tarks_  an' orcs ain't meant ta be friendly. I don't want them ta replace my kids... my Anba..." The orcess began crying in earnest then, and Edraithur could not understand what she was muttering in between hiccuping sobs.

The young guard sighed, and leaned his gar against the far wall, across from the orcess's cell. He waited patiently while she composed herself, wiping her face across the worn sleeves of her dress. "When I was a boy," Edraithur said slowly, once her hitching breath had steadied, " my father and brother were killed in the War." The she orc's brow furrowed and she opened her mouth as if to say something, but Edraithur held up his hand, intent on continuing his story.

"For three years after," he persisted, "it was just myself and my mother and our grief. Then, she remarried, and I felt very betrayed. I thought that she had dishonored my father's memory. I hated her second husband with a fervent passion, and I refused to accept his son as my brother. I had no desire to replace the father and brother I had lost." The orcess looked thoughtful at his words, and made no move to interrupt him. "I kept trying to find fault in my new family," Edraithur went on. "No matter how much affection I was shown by them, I refused to return that affection. I pushed them all away, including my mother, who I felt had committed the most grievous offense of them all. It took me years to see that her second husband treated her with great love and respect; just as much as my father had shown her. I understood that she had not remarried in order to forget my father, but because she had found love again."

"I know," Edraithur said quietly, "that my father would have wanted my mother to find happiness. She was miserable in her grief, and my father would not have wanted her to mourn him forever. Just as, I am sure, your family would not seek your unhappiness. They would want you to find joy in your life."

The orc snorted. "You don't fucking know orcs very well."

Edraithur knotted his brow. "Do you believe that to be true? The depth of your grief would suggest that you felt great affection for your kin. Do you feel that affection was not returned?"

The orcess frowned thoughtfully. "I..." she hesitated, unsure. "Me an Anba, we never needed words. Our kids, they was just mites. We was still their whole world. An' Drautran, she were like a sis ta me. We'd been together since Lugbúrz." The orcess worried her lip. "My folk don't get on like yer folk, though. We fight a  _lot_... but, there's softness there too." She was silent for a long while. "I guess, there were somethin' like affection, just... not the same."

"So," Edraithur said slowly, "don't you think they would want you to be happy?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. "I wouldn't want me ta be happy."

The young guard sighed wearily. "Then perhaps," he offered, "it is not their forgiveness you should seek. Perhaps you must forgive yourself. Either way, I do not understand why you must make things so difficult for Cadoc and his relatives... or for  _me_. I am just trying to do my job." Edraithur picked up his gar and proceeded down the hallway. His words seemed to affect the orcess, and that was enough. He could not spend all night trying to help her sort out her feelings.

"Oi!" she called after him, and Edraithur turned to face her. "How are you now? With yer mum's new hubby, I mean."

"I call him father," Edraithur admitted, "and I have found it does not tarnish my memory of my real father. I am now quite close with his son also, and I find that our friendship does not diminish the love I felt for my brother." The orcess absorbed that information quietly, and disappeared into her cell. Edraithur returned to his rounds for the night.

 


	21. Coming to Terms

**Splint**

**Chapter 21 Coming to Terms**

* * *

Cadoc ascended the tall stairway of the courthouse wearily. In the end, he needed a break from it all, and had gone back to his sister's to bathe and rest and sleep in his own bed, but the guilt he felt at doing this was crushing, and he returned to the village to resume his visits with Rukhash. As he was led to the prison by one of the guards, Cadoc mentally prepared himself for the cold reception he knew was coming. The last time he saw the orcess, she had not recognized his presence at all, and Cadoc wondered if it would be that Rukhash, or the raging, violent Rukhash that would greet him.

She was sitting on her bed, leaning against the wall. She seemed calm enough by Cadoc's opinion, but she still refused to look at him. The ranger regarded the her profile with a sigh. "Hello, Rukhash," he greeted, and waited for the derision he knew was coming.

"I been real bad," the orcess said evenly, still staring ahead. Cadoc's heart nearly jumped in his throat at the sound of her rough, hoarse voice. "I'm surprised you came back," she said. "Thought I drove you off fer sure wit' how I been actin'."

"I am not so easily dissuaded," Cadoc said with a wan smile.

The orcess regarded him quietly, and rose to her feet. She seemed to drag herself as she approached the bars to stand before him, gripping the cold iron between them and resting her head against the metal. "I'm sorry," she said simply, though it seemed to take all of her strength to do so. "Been puttin' shit on you I shouldn'tve. You ain't been nothin' but decent ta me an' I turned it on you."

Cadoc's brow furrowed. "I felt that things were a little more than 'decent' between us," he said, a little hurt. "What has possessed you these past weeks? I understand your rage, but I cannot understand its direction."

She was silent for a long while, her attention on the brass buttons on his vest. The orcess fingered one of them quietly, thoughtful, the pad of her thumb tracing over the small raised designs in the metal. "I thought I'd put a lot of shit behind me," she said finally, "but I didn't do that at all. I'd just pushed it all down so's I didn't have ta think about it. You know," she continued, her tone dark, "if I'd a come across you when my clan were still livin', I woulda laughed while them wolves tore you ta pieces. It woulda been the high point've my whole day, and I wouldn't 'ave given ya a second thought after. Or," she said, her cold eyes raising to meet his, "I woulda brought you back and let the lads have a go at ya. Either way, shit wouldn'tve turned out like it did."

Cadoc didn't know how he felt about that information. The ranger wondered if his hope that her dark mood had lifted was ill placed. "Why are you telling me this?"

Cadoc watched her throat move in a rough swallow. "I told ya before, orcs an' men weren't meant ta mingle. I'd always felt that were damn true. When I first met yer sis an 'er kids, you mentioned my granddad. Said 'e were an example of orcs an' men gettin' along, but I ain't sure he counts as an exception. He done as many wicked things ta men as any orc. I think, if you knew some a the shit I done to your folk, you wouldn't think as kindly a me as ya do."

Cadoc reached up to cup her face and thumbed away the tear streaking down her cheek. "I had hoped that such things were not in your past," he admitted, "but if you can forgive me for the slights I have committed against your people, then I must forgive you for the slights you have committed against mine. Fair is fair. You said that to me yourself."

Rukhash recoiled from his touch, frowning miserably. "'Course 'ats what I said. I had to overlook it. If I'd dwelt on it, I'd a killed you, an' then I'd been alone again. I couldn't fucking bear that, not no more. I ain't  _wise_ , Cadoc. I'm fucking selfish. I done all the right shit fer all the wrong reasons. I'm a selfish,  _snaga_  coward." She turned away from him then, and collapsed onto her mattress, turning her back to him.

Cadoc couldn't bear to see her weep. Glancing down the hallway, he realized the night guard was just coming on duty. Determined, Cadoc strode towards the young man. "I need you to let me in with her," he said.

A stern look came over the guard's face. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"I beg you," Cadoc implored him, "she will not hurt me, and you may lock the door behind me." Cadoc watched the guard's grim expression waver. "Please," Cadoc entreated, and he hoped his tone conveyed the necessity of his request.

The guard exhaled sharply, his eyes darting nervously to look behind him, as if he expected someone would overhear them. "I will give you a few moments, and the door  _will_  be locked behind you" he whispered. "If she tears you apart, I will be forced to slay her," he added seriously.

"Of course," Cadoc said, practically sighing with relief. He knew Rukhash would never hurt him, no matter what the orcess believed herself capable of.

Rukhash stifled her weeping when the door clanked shut behind him, but she didn't turn to face Cadoc. The ranger nodded to the guard, who politely stepped to the side and out of sight, though Cadoc imagined he hadn't gone far. Cadoc took a seat next to the orcess, who was sullen and silent, refusing to look at him. He crossed his legs and gently pulled her onto his lap. She stiffened a little at first, but seemed to concede and relax against him, her head resting on his chest. A wave of concern assailed him when he noticed how thin she had become.

Pushing aside his worry, Cadoc laid his cheek against her dark hair. "When you first told me of the tragedies that had befallen you," he whispered quietly, knowing her sharp ears would hear him, "it was guilt that I felt, and much of my tolerance of you, in those first weeks, was based on that guilt. Even my promise was born from it, because you had saved me and if our positions were reversed I would not have done the same. Really, it was a small promise, since I would ride to South Ithilien in the spring anyway, and taking you over the Anduin was really not so far out of my way." Rukhash was quiet where she lay against him. He wished she would look up so he could judge her reaction, but these were words that needed to be said.

"I will spare you the details of my dealings with orcs, and I hope you will afford me the same courtesy in your dealings with men," he continued in the same, quiet tone. "I  _will_  tell you that I felt the ruthlessness with which I routed them out was justified, no matter how much or how little they had done. Many had bothered no one at all after the war, and their only crime was settling too close to men."

"Then, I met you," he went on. "You did not behave in a way I thought an orc would. Certainly, you are more crass than I am accustomed to, but that is hardly a crime, and I have met many women of more ill temperament than you." Rukhash snorted at this. "It was guilt and curiosity that made me look at you more closely. It was tolerance that made me see you as a person, and not a bitter foe. It was affection that made me call you friend, when once I would have called you an enemy." Cadoc bent his mouth to her ear, his voice so quiet, he wondered if Rukhash would hear. "It was love that made me ask you to my bed, and which has kept me here at your side, hoping to find my friend again. I cannot know your heart, but I can clearly see my own, now. I do love you, and you may take that for what it is worth to you."

She looked at him then, concerned and bewildered by his confession. "You have said that your motives were selfish," he continued, undaunted by her silence, "and yet you have shown true affection for my sister and her family. You have been gentle with her children, and patient with our customs, which I am sure are very different from your own. I can tell you honestly, because I have known you, I will never raise my sword against one of your people again, not without just cause. Can you not say the same? You have seen the better nature of man. Has that not touched you in some way?"

The orcess nodded. "I used ta think it were funny, Cadoc. I didn't care. Now I see yer sis or Elador or that dumb ox in their places, an' that shit don't seem so funny no more. I like your kin, Cadoc, but it feels like treachery that I feel fer them like I'd feel fer my own. Not after what men 'ave done to us." She rested her forehead against his, lowering her voice. "It feels like I betrayed my Anba, like I'm lettin' you take 'is place."

"I don't want to take his place in your heart, Rukhash," he told her "but I would hope that you might find some way to make a little room there for me as well."

"I can't forgive that man," she said seriously, and Cadoc was painfully aware of her change of subject. "Him I won't forgive. We mighta done some mean shit to folks what trespassed, but that don't mean my kids 'ad to die fer it. They didn't know no better. They was just babies."

"I have not forgiven Baladnor from swindling my wife away from under my nose," Cadoc told her. "I do not expect  _you_  to forgive him for the part he played in your children's murder. However, you should know that his life is not a happy one. He is a drunk and a lout and holds very little respect in this village. Aside from his few orc hunter friends, I doubt there are any that take him seriously, besides Ingrid. It is why you have been safe here. People have far more respect for Magistrate Halbard's judgement, no matter how much they are confused by it."

"I don't ever wanna look at him again," the orcess growled. "I'm glad 'is life is shit, but I can't look at him without seein' them bodies piled up. I just wanna get out of this fuckin' place an get back to my folk. I wanna go back ta where shit makes sense ta me. Yer sis an' her family, yer kin, they're good people, an' I'm glad I known 'em, but my clan, they'd hate what I've become. My Anba, if he knew how I felt... about you... he'd hate me fer it." Rukhash tucked he head against his neck and started sobbing.

Cadoc swallowed hard. "Do you regret it," he whispered, "what we have done?"

" _Nar_ ," she wept into his shirt, "an' I hate  _myself_  fer it."

* * *

Edraithur kept his eyes trained on the wall ahead of him. Cadoc and the orc's conversation was too quiet for him to hear, but he caught the familiar, hitching sobs of the she orc amidst Cadoc's gentle tone. The young guard could not deny his curiosity. He hazarded a peek around the corner and was surprised to see the she orc sitting on Cadoc's lap. The ranger laid a gentle kiss on her crown and eased her off of him. As Cadoc stood, his jaw firmed, noticing Edraithur looking in on them. The orcess curled up into her corner, quieting, her eyes on Cadoc as the guard let him out of the cell.

"Rukhash," Cadoc turned to address the orc, "if nothing else, I ask for your patience. Once you are freed, I will take you home." Cadoc sighed sadly. "Then, you may put all of this behind you." The she orc nodded at him, miserable, and wiped her face with her sleeve, sniffling wetly. Cadoc turned his attention to Edraithur. "I would ask that you do not mention this," he said quietly.

"I would be in a great deal of trouble if I did," the guard admitted.

"I will bring her evening meal to her," Cadoc said as he walked past the young guard.

Edraithur nodded to the ranger's retreating back, and glanced back into the orc's cell. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, but she seemed to have calmed, her expression thoughtful and far away. The young guard gave the cell door a hard tug, ensuring it was locked, and continued on his first rounds of the evening.

The intimacy he observed between Cadoc and the orcess troubled Edraithur. He had assumed they shared a close friendship, though it had seemed very one sided up until today. Now, he wondered if there was something deeper there. Shaking his head, Edraithur decided he must be mistaken. Friendship with an orc he could, perhaps, understand, if given the right circumstances, but anything more would be insane. After all, how could the ranger love something so ugly?

When he came again to the she orc's cell, he was annoyed to see Cadoc there still. It was well past visiting time, and Edraithur would be reprimanded if anyone found the ranger here. As he approached a seated Cadoc, Edraithur realized the orcess was sitting across from him, eating dutifully as he spoke to her through the bars of her cell.

"Edda is not angry at you," the guard overheard Cadoc tell the orc. "She is  _very_  concerned, though, and, I must admit, a little frightened by you now."

"Tell 'er I'm sorry," orcess said, sounding contrite. "I wanted ta scare 'er off... but not fer anythin' she'd done. It was me I were angry with, not 'er or the kids. She's been nothin' but real nice, an' I been a shit these past weeks."

Clearing his throat, Edraithur motioned at Cadoc. "I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave," he told the ranger.

Cadoc nodded and reached through the bars to pat Rukhash on the shoulder. "I will speak with you tomorrow," he told the orcess. "Take heart, Halbard can only keep you here for another five weeks. Then, the snows will have passed and we will be able to get on our way." Rukhash nodded curtly, but her expression looked hopeful.

"Sir," Edraithur warned.

Cadoc sighed and rose to his feet. Edraithur followed the ranger out, leading him up the stairs and out the rear exit. The ranger paused before walking into the night, turning towards the young guard and regarding him thoughtfully. "Rukhash told me that you two had a very interesting conversation."

"Oh?" Edraithur coughed, curious.

"She did not tell me  _what_  you discussed," Cadoc clarified, "but your words carried weight with her. She said you helped her put some things into perspective." Cadoc clasped the guards shoulder. "Thank you," the ranger said. "You reached her in a way I could not, and may have very well saved her life. I am not sure if Halbard would allow her to live if she continued to display such violence."

"It was nothing," Edraithur said. He knew with much more certainty that the orcess's days had been numbered. Edraithur did not share Cadoc's friendship with the orc, but he held no malice for her either. She seemed like a troubled soul.

Cadoc nodded with a small smile. "I would still thank you," he said as he turned to leave. Edraithur watched him head towards the inn, a little surprised by the ranger's earnest gratitude. Shaking his head, he pulled the heavy, oak door closed and continued on his rounds.

* * *

Halbard quietly regarded the orcess through the bars of her cell. She was sitting quietly, leafing through a large picture book. She looked much more calm; relaxed even. Halbard cleared his throat to get her attention.

The orcess looked up, genuinely surprised to see him there. Hedon did not realize she was so engrossed. "Did Cadoc give you that?" the magistrate asked her.

"Yea," she replied. "Thought it'd been lost, but some bint found it after... after 'at nonsense at the tavern. It's all right I got it, yea? I mean, I'm allowed, ain't I?"

"Of course," Halbard conceded, a little amused by her guilty tone. "I was unaware that you knew how to read."

Rukhash looked sheepish. "I don't," she admitted, "but I like the pictures."

"May I see?" Halbard asked and extended his hand to her. He was a little curious as to what she found so interesting. Rukhash rose from her seat and obligingly passed the book through the bars. Halbard retrieved it with a gentle smile. His smile broadened when he read the title, amused by Cadoc's choice of reading material. "I understand you have been very well behaved these past few days," the magistrate said conversationally, leafing through the pages.

"I were a real cunt," the orcess conceded. Halbard raised a brow at her choice of words, but remained silent. "I'm sorry I were such trouble fer ya, but I promise, I'll be good now. I'll eat my food an' stop throwin' fits; won't growl'r nothin, an' you'll let me go then, yea? Cadoc said if I'm on my best behavior you'll let me go so I can get back ta Mordor."

The magistrate closed the book and handed it back to her. "What of Baladnor?" he asked quietly. "When we first spoke, you had very choice words concerning the men responsible for killing your kin."

Rukhash hugged the book to her chest, a dark expression on her face. "I don't want nothin' ta do with 'im," she said tightly. "I hope 'e dies a miserable death, but it won't be at my hand. I won't do 'at ta Cadoc." The orcess looked at Halbard pointedly. "You'd hold 'im responsible, wouldn't ya?"

"I have told him as much," the magistrate said calmly.

The orcess leaned against the bars, still holding her book. "I caused 'im an' his enough trouble," she said quietly, frowning. "I just wanna find a home again; wit' my own folk. Somewhere 'at I won't have see men again."

"Very well," Halbard nodded, noting her miserable expression. "Behave well and you will be free to go in four weeks. That should give you the time you need to prepare for your journey. I think," Halbard added gravely, "it would be in your best interest not to return to this village once you have gone. Do we understand each other?" Halbard did not think she was lying to him. He was sure that she would hold to her word and let Baladnor be, but her actions over the first few weeks of her imprisonment proved that she was an unstable individual. He wanted her to know that, once she left, she would not be welcomed back.

Rukhash bowed her head. "I understand," she said, sadly.


	22. The Cruelty of Men

**Splint**

**Chapter 22 The Cruelty of Men**

**AN:**  Serig and Yerg are not even remotely a Tolkienish name...but I have used it anyway because I like how it sounds. Nya Nya.

* * *

"You cannot be serious," Ingrid nearly shrieked at the calm expression on Magistrate Halbard's face.

The magistrate looked over his steepled fingers at Ingrid and Baladnor standing on the other side of his large, paper ridden desk. "I am completely serious," Halbard told her evenly. "The orc has been well behaved for her long incarceration here. I intend to be true to my word and release her so she may return to her people."

Baladnor slapped his palm hard against the desk, angry and red faced. A few loose sheets of paper fluttered to the floor. "She has sworn to  _kill_  me," he growled. "How can you show that  _thing_  more consideration than a son of Gondor?" Ingrid's arms were crossed over her chest, her face a mask of grim anger. She could not believe Halbard would be so short sighted. The minute the orc was free, it would certainly seek out her husband.

Standing slowly, Halbard rounded the table to stand before the couple. He could understand their concerns, but he had no just cause to kill the orcess. "I make no decision lightly," he told the pair. "If it eases your worry, I will have a deputy placed at your home."

Ingrid's green eyes flashed angrily. "So that is the end of it?" she hissed. "After what that creature has done to my husband, you are going to let her walk away free? She has crippled him and you would reward that with freedom. How is that justice?"

Halbard regarded their furious expressions with all the patience he could muster. Baladnor's injury had not escaped the magistrate's consideration, but it had been earned through the murder of the orc's family. As far as Halbard was concerned, it made the two of them even. "Rukhash has not committed any serious crime within my jurisdiction," Halbard said. "If you wish to take her to task for your condition, then you may ride to Rohan and petition the magistrate of the Ridder Mark to review your case. That is the closest territory to where the incident took place."

Baladnor nearly quivered with rage. "I cannot  _ride_  anywhere," he ground through his teeth, " _because_  of that beast. By the time I am able to go through those channels it will have fled." Calming himself, Baladnor squared his shoulders. "I don't suppose you would agree to extradite her."

"That seems an unnecessary expense," Halbard answered easily.

Baladnor wanted to strangle the man. Halbard's easy refusal was a betrayal of everything the magistrate should stand for. Enraged, the former orc hunter stormed out of the magistrate's office. He heard the sharp clack of Ingrid's boots behind him, but Baladnor could not turn to look at her. They had both been affronted by the news that the orc would be released, free to go and do murder as she pleased. The fact that Halbard would spare but one deputy in his defense did not ease Baladnor's fears. The orc would seek him out, unless he could prove that she was a threat. Then, the magistrate would come to his senses and execute the creature.

Ingrid's small, white hand gripped his arm. He had walked them to the rear of the courthouse, not far from the prison. "Baladnor," she said, concerned, "where are you going?"

"I am going to prove what a monster that thing is," he told her. "They don't know what it is capable of, but I do. I just need to prove it."

A worried frown graced Ingrid's features. "How do you plan to do  _that_?"

Baladnor kissed her lips chastely and gave her arm a reassuring pat. "You leave that to me, Ingrid. Stay here. I'll be back shortly, and don't look so worried," he added. "It is caged. It will not be able to harm me."

The worry had not left her face, but she smiled wanly at him. "All right," she agreed hesitantly, "I'll wait here."

Baladnor paused at the end of the tall stairway, cautiously peeking around the corner. The guard on the orc was surprisingly light. It would be remarkably easy to sneak into the prison and execute her himself, and if it wasn't for Halbard's law against killing the orc, Baladnor might have considered that thought more seriously. As it was, he would most likely be reprimanded for what he was about to do, but it was well worth it if he could prove his point.

He found the orc in the middle cell. Sneaking a look around the corner, he found her parsing through a children's book, of all things. She was half propped up against the wall, clothed in a worn, blue peasant dress that fell to her ankles. It was the most absurd thing he had ever seen. Is this how Cadoc managed to gain sympathy for his orc: by dressing her in the manner of a woman? How anyone could look at her and see anything but a monster was beyond Baladnor's understanding.

"Oi, you arsehole cunt," her gravel voice rumbled. "I know yer fucking there, maggot." She had not bothered to look up from her book, but her expression had become hard and furious.

Baladnor stepped in front of her cell with a sneer. "That cage suits you," he told her.

"Hn," the orcess grunted, ignoring him.

This was not going the way he expected at all. He had assumed she would launch herself at him immediately, just as she did at the tavern. Now, she seemed determined to act as though his presence didn't affect her at all. Baladnor saw through her ruse. Her hatred of him was barely masked by her indifferent expression. He would only need to push her a little before she lost her temper.

Baladnor leaned casually against the wall next to her cell, dangerously close to the bars. "I expected a warmer reception," he said conversationally. "After all, we're old acquaintances."

The she orc's eye seemed to twitch a little, and Baladnor smirked.  _That's right_ , he thought.  _You can't stand to be this close without taking a swipe at me. Show them what you are, beast._

Rukhash closed her book and rolled to sit up, crossing her legs and turning towards the wall. She crossed her arms and closed her eyes, intent on blocking out anything else this murdering  _tark_  was going to say to her. She knew what he was up to, and she refused to placate him by doing something that would ruin her chances at freedom.

Baladnor's face screwed up into a rage. "Don't you turn you back on me, you devil!" he nearly roared and proceeded to launch into a round of insults that would do an orc proud.

It had been a long, hard road for Rukhash to come to terms with the fact that she would not be able to kill this man. She had promised Cadoc and the magistrate, and Rukhash had no intention of going back on that word. She would not see Cadoc punished for her vengeance. As Baladnor continued to prod her, Rukhash comforted herself with the knowledge that the orc poison would eventually kill him. Not today, and not tomorrow, but bit by bit over decades. Baladnor would forever be a cripple and a drunk, because the pain of his slow decline would only increase. She would one day find a tribe. She would go on to be a mother. She would live and he would die miserably.

This was, actually, not nearly as satisfying an end as if she were to mutilate him herself. Flaying him slowly, savoring in his agonized screams; that would be a proper orcish revenge, but she would have to be content with the situation as it was. At least she had given him that wound in the first place. In a detached way, it was almost as if she tortured him by her own hand. A part of Rukhash was sad that she could never return. She wondered if he would drink himself to death before the poison robbed him of his ability to walk altogether.

Baladnor was furious. The orcess refused to even acknowledge his presence, and he wondered how long he had until a guard came by. A brief memory flashed in his mind, and Baladnor smirked cruelly. "Your name is Rukhash, is it?" he asked her, but she remained silent and aloof. "What does  _gotlizish_  mean?"

The orcess turned to him with a bewildered expression on her face. "Where'd you lean that?" she hissed, rising to her feet. "Where'd you lean that word?"

Pleased with her reaction, Baladnor took a cautious step back from the cell. "Tell me what it means, and I will tell you where I heard it."

The orc stepped forward, laying her hand on one of the metal bars between them. Her face bore a sad expression, but Baladnor refused to be swayed by her false show of emotion. Rukhash regarded him thoughtfully. "It means 'forgive me'. Who said it to ya?"

Though the translation unnerved him a little, he pressed on. "I believe," Baladnor said, "that someone said it to  _you._  A large, black berserker that killed four of the men with me before we were able to subdue him. He said  _Rukhash gotlizish_  before I put an arrow between his hideous red eyes. If he had not said it so slowly, I would not have recalled it."

For a long moment, the orcess simply stared at him with a horrified expression plastered on her face. Her breath began hitching in quick, shallow gasps. "You..." she breathed. "You killed 'im... my Anba..." She bared her teeth, snorting viciously, like a wild boar, and gripped the bars of her cell with such intensity, Baladnor thought she might twist them open.

_Now you'll try for me,_  Baladnor thought triumphantly, pushing down the discomfort he felt at her reaction.  _Now you'll prove that you're nothing more than a violent monster_.

She did not reach for him, though. She pressed her brow against the metal and screamed with a high pitched, inhuman voice. Her expression of rage was so loud and long it seemed to make the walls shake, and Baladnor had to cover his ears to keep them from popping. Much to his dismay, the orc did not try to attack him after this, but sank to her knees, clutching her head as if she meant to pry her own skull open, and began to weep more violently than he had ever seen anything weep in all of his life, all the while wailing with a piercing, animal whine. Baladnor could not comprehend what he was seeing. He did not think orcs were capable of crying. A nagging guilt tugged at him, but he refused to acknowledge it. He would not feel guilty over the sorrow of this unnatural creature.

A rough hand grabbed Baladnor's shoulder and he was pulled from in front of the orc's cell, spun, and pushed back roughly. The former orc hunter had to catch himself against the wall to keep from falling over. Cadoc stood before him, looking more furious than Baladnor ever remembered him looking. "What are you doing here?" the ranger barked at him.

Baladnor stood his full height, undaunted by Cadoc's rage. "Nothing of importance," Baladnor said evenly. "I thought I would visit our mutual acquaintance."

Cadoc looked irately from Baladnor to the orc sobbing against the bars of her cell. She had quieted somewhat, but her crying was no less intense. "What did you say to her?" Cadoc growled. He advanced menacingly on Baladnor, his fists balled, and Baladnor found himself backing up anxiously. Cadoc was not as broad as Baladnor, but easily taller and in better physical condition and unhindered by the orc hunter's crippling pain.

"Cadoc!" Ingrid yelled as she rushed down the hallway. She situated herself between her former and current husband, shielding Baladnor from Cadoc's obvious wrath. "You will leave him alone," she told Cadoc fiercely, her eyes hard. Ingrid was taken aback by Cadoc's expression of pure loathing. He had not looked upon her in such a way since he discovered the truth about her affair with Baladnor.

"What is going on here?" the voice of the magistrate boomed. Halbard stalked down the hallway angrily. He took in the scene before him: Cadoc threatenly looming over Ingrid and Baladnor while Rukhash hugged the bars of her cell. Edraithur was rushing towards them from the other end of the corridor, obviously coming from his rounds along the perimeter.

Halbard passed by all of them to look in on Rukhash. She was shaking, but whether it was with rage or sorrow or both, Halbard could not tell. Her face was wet, but she wasn't crying now. She had wedged herself against the bars and the corner wall, pressing her head against the cold stone. "Get 'im the fuck away from me," she whispered fiercely, her eyes panicked. "Make 'im go away... please... just make 'im go away."

Nodding grimly, Halbard turned. "See to her," the magistrate told Cadoc as he passed the ranger. Halbard did not look to see if Cadoc followed his orders, he gripped Baladnor by the arm and half dragged the man down to the end of the hallway. Ingrid was wide eyed with worry, following their brisk pace.

Halbard pushed Baladnor against the wall, furious. "Why are you here? What did you say to the orc?"

"Nothing!" Baladnor said, raising his palms in a placating gesture. "I said nothing!"

"She has been calm and obedient for the better part of her stay here," Halbard said. The magistrate did not feel the need to mention the orcess's early violence. For the past four weeks she had been the perfect prisoner. Even the guards that had once complained about her marveled at the change. "I cannot believe that you came down here to do  _nothing_. What did you hope to accomplish by visiting her?"

"I wanted you to see how dangerous she is," Baladnor said defensively. "I think I have made my point," he continued, pointing down the hallway towards Rukhash's cell, "if my mere presence causes such an outburst. Think what she will do when you have freed her and she is able to slake her bloodlust."

Ingrid looked from Halbard's angry face to the scene down the corridor. Cadoc was reaching into the orc's cell, comforting her. A young guard crouched nearby. He was also talking to the orc in quiet, soothing tones. This would not play out well for Baladnor, she could feel it. Ingrid mentally scolded herself for allowing him to go off on his own. She hoped he wouldn't have to spend a day in the stockade for something as foolish as troubling an orc, especially the orc that had caused them so much misery.

"I do not think you appreciate the  _delicacy_  with which I am handling this situation," Halbard told Baladnor, leaning in to speak quietly. "You were injured by the orc  _after_  you slew the other orcs in her tribe, including her children. In my opinion, that makes the score between the two of you even."

"There is no law against killing orcs," Baladnor said lamely, unable to think up a better response. A brief image flashed in his mind of the small, dark bodies in the orcs' den. Baladnor swallowed uncomfortably, wondering how many of them had been hers, but he mentally scolded himself for feeling such remorse. It was a great service they had done. Those imps would have grown to be dangerous adults; just like their mother.

Halbard huffed through his nose. "That is why I have overlooked the fact that she took justice into her own hands by wounding you, but I will not allow her to go any further," Halbard said sternly. "I have her word that she will no longer make an attempt on your life. She will be escorted out of this province by Cadoc who will see that she is delivered home without incident, and I intend to post a deputy at your home to see that she does not go back on her promise while she is here. Coming here and upsetting her is not helping matters!"

Baladnor could not think of anything to say. Halbard was furious, and Baladnor decided it would be better to let the matter drop. Cadoc suddenly made his presence known, walking up behind Halbard to point an accusing finger at Baladnor. "You have  _no_  shame," the ranger hissed.

"Leave him alone, Cadoc!" Ingrid growled, and tried to grasp Cadoc's arm, but he pulled from her grasp.

"Cadoc," Halbard's sharp voice warned. "Leave it be."

"I am the one with no shame," Baladnor sneered sarcastically, "when  _you_ are the one fraternizing with  _orcs_. I don't care how you dress it up, Cadoc, that thing is an anim-"

Cadoc's fist connected with Baladnor's face with such speed, Halbard would not have been able to stop him. As it was, the magistrate had to drag the ranger away from Baladnor so he could not continue his onslaught. Ingrid screamed with rage and rushed to catch her husband before he could fall.

Baladnor clutched his jaw angrily and glared at Halbard standing between himself and Cadoc. Ingrid was just as furious, favoring Cadoc with the dirtiest look she could. "Are you going to allow him to assault my husband, Halbard? Does the fact that we are lawful citizens mean nothing?"

"Ingrid," Halbard said, slow and weary as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Take your husband home."

* * *

Baladnor sat at his kitchen table, vaguely aware of the late morning sun streaming through the window. He took a sip of his glass of whiskey, the bottle left on the table by a thoughtful Ingrid. Baladnor idly rubbed the wound on his belly through his shirt. No doctor could explain to him why his pain lingered, or why the wound maintained a black color, even years after the injury. The infection that set in afterwards was blamed for his joint pain, but Baladnor always wondered if it was some revenge taken on him. As though the black spirits of all those orcs he slaughtered were working to end his life as well. Sometimes, Baladnor wondered if there was some justice in it.

His mind kept returning to the orc's reaction the day prior, to the horrible sound of her wailing; both like and unlike a mourning woman. Baladnor frowned, remembering the black berserker. It had taken six men and an incomprehensible number of wounds to bring him down. He could still recall the defeated look on the creature's face, a sad resignation as he bled out onto the forest floor. Baladnor was still not sure what stayed his hand long enough to hear the orc's last words, but the knowledge of their translation troubled him.

_Forgive me_.

That orc most likely knew he was the last of his fellows still standing, that a score of men had already ascended on the den. Even Baladnor could hear the howling screams of that second battle from where he stood. The high pitched howling of the females and the squealing of the young. That berserker knew he had failed in that moment, that the hunters would overtake the den and kill any and all inside. Baladnor wondered what relation Cadoc's orc had to that berserker. Were they siblings?, Friends? She had called him 'my Anba'. Had they been mates? That thought troubled Baladnor profoundly. Had he walked into that prison and told that orc that he killed her mate?

Baladnor took another long drink and rubbed his face tiredly. He had, long ago, put to bed any guilt he felt when it came to dealing with orcs. He felt as though he had more than suffered at their hands. Baladnor was not, by his nature, cruel, but after the War there had been a great deal of opportunity for men brave enough to take the heads of orcs. At first, it felt like a noble service. When he was slaying bands of orcish raiders, he felt no guilt at all. Those devils had decimated towns and villages and homesteads. They had been dangerous. Then, there were fewer and fewer wandering bands of orcs. Then, there were dens with females and young, and adults that fought with the vicious passion of defending their home. Many orc hunters left the profession at that point, and Baladnor had been nearly ready to leave it himself. He felt he had seen enough seasons, done enough good; but he was recently married, and he wanted Ingrid to be well off with him. He didn't want them scraping by, not with a boy at home to take care of and hopefully more on the way.

It was supposed to have been his last hunt. If Baladnor had known how true that was, he would have never left Ingrid to travel with the northern men into the Misty Mountains.

_It had been a nightmare. Baladnor looked over the carnage strewn across the dark forest floor. Seven of his comrades had fallen here, while another four were seriously wounded. That left only twenty of them to see to the cleanup. The dark bodies of the nine males they encountered had been dragged into a rough pile. They would take their heads once they had cleared out the den._

_Entering the dark cavern that was the orcs' lair, Baladnor could still hear a few desperate shrieks. They had taken care of the five adults inside, but the imps were giving them trouble. Baladnor managed to catch a small, black shape by the scruff as it tried to dash past him and out into the forest. It was about the size of a six or seven year old boy, and male. Its lack of clothing made that obvious. The orc imp bore its tiny, sharp teeth, hissing and spitting as it made a swipe at him with its claws. It was fairly strong for its size, and Baladnor had to pin it with his knee while he positioned his dagger. He favored it with a quick, clean death, thrusting up into the creature's armpit, instantly stopping its heart. The imp ceased its struggling and went limp. It was a merciful slaying, unlike the gory end their scout had come to. They found Serig's body stripped clean of all skin and muscle, as if he were carved like a turkey. His blond scalp had been cleaved from his skull and hung on the wall like a ghastly decoration._

_Baladnor did not relish killing young. In fact, he abhorred it, but it was a necessary evil. Their heads fetched no price at all, but the knowledge that the world would be spared another monster seemed like payment enough. Baladnor threw the imp on the pile they had started in the rear of the cave. He heard a barking yelp and the squelching metallic sound of Yerg's sword as he finished off one of the adult females. She had been immobilized, but they were not such monsters that they would wait for her to die slowly._

_"This one was a little spitfire," Dran laughed merrily as he threw a tiny body on the pile. This imp was female, clothed in a rough tunic that had ridden up obscenely to her waist. She stared up at Baladnor with glassy, orange eyes. A neat slice made a second, smiling mouth on her neck._

_Dran held up another small body. "Would've never found this one without her, though." As Dran threw the smaller imp in with its fellows, Baladnor realized it was an infant male with tawny yellow eyes, obscenely large in his tiny, black face. The tied cord on its belly had yet to dry and fall off. _It could not be more than a few days old.__

_"Led me right to him," Dran went on, idly cleaning his knife. "Found them both in a little hole in the back, but this cave doesn't seem to go any deeper than that. Gave me a nice scratch, that little female." Dran held up his arm to reveal five short thin lines of blood on his bare forearm and Yerg gave him an appreciative nod._

_Baladnor kneeled down to have a closer look at the small male. "I've never seen an infant before," Baladnor said anxiously. The two imps managed to fall next to each other in the pile, and the female's head rested in an almost affectionate way against the male infant. Their youth softened the harshness of their features, and they looked remarkably like a pair of dark skinned, children. Uncomfortable with their glassy, accusing stares, Baladnor gently brushed his fingertips against the eyes of the two imps, closing them; so they appeared to be sleeping. He immediately regretted this. The pair looked even more innocent without their inhuman eyes visible._

_"Don't waste your sympathy, lad," Dran said, coming to stand behind him. "These breeding groups are the most trouble in the long run. Think how much worse this would have been if they managed to multiply for another decade. You start feeling even the smallest twinge of guilt, and you remember poor Serig's bones stripped bare."_

_Baladnor stood and regarded the older orc hunter thoughtfully. "I wouldn't trouble myself with feeling guilty," Baladnor lied._

_"There's a lad," Dran said with a smile, clasping Baladnor's shoulder. "We're done in here. Let's help the others build up those pyres. No sense in dragging the bodies out to bake in the sun until we have a decent fire going."_

He returned later, with Dran, to a den he thought was empty, only to be wounded by a stray survivor. To face her, all these years later, brought back both his bitter hatred and his deepest remorse. Some of those imps were her children. One of those males was her mate. If he truly looked inside himself, he found Magistrate's Halbard's words rang true. Her vengeance was justified.

Baladnor stared at the amber liquid, watching the warm light catch it, making tiny, orange spheres dance inside his glass. He kept trying to imagine Serig's wife when they brought her his ashes. The Captain didn't think it would be appropriate that she see his actual remains. As hard as he tried, Baladnor could not stop seeing the orc's anguished face in place of Serig's wife, weeping as she held what was left of her husband. Frowning, Baladnor took another long swallow and refilled his glass. His pain seemed to be worse than usual today, and the former orc hunter grunted as he slowly opened and closed his sword hand, trying to stretch the stiff, painful joints.

"You have company," Ingrid's bright voice called from the main room. Baladnor frowned even more. He hated the position he had put Ingrid in. He hated that she had to spend most of her time taking care of him. There were mornings where he could barely get out of bed without her help. He couldn't even lay with her any more. His wound had even stolen that small pleasure from him.

Barmund strode confidently into Baladnor's kitchen and regarded his comrade sitting morosely at the long table, staring thoughtfully at his drink. Grabbing a glass from its familiar place in the cupboard, Barmund sat down and helped himself. "I have news that will cheer you up," Barmund said brightly, clanking his glass against Baladnor's, where it sat untouched on the table.

Baladnor's brow furrowed. "Oh?" he said wearily. He wasn't sure he felt up to whatever entertainment Barmund had planned. The last time Barmund had good news, he dragged Baladnor to a whorehouse and proceeded to spend most of Baladnor's money on women he had no use for. If Baladnor could have a woman, he would have Ingrid. He had felt that way since the moment he met her. Still, Barmund was one of the few people that he could still call a friend.

"Me and the others have been talking," Barmund said conversationally, and Baladnor frowned. This didn't sound good at all.

"About?" Baladnor took a long sip from his drink. He felt as though he would need it for whatever Barmund 'and the others' had been discussing. Their ideas involved far too much alcohol to be anything but trouble, and Baladnor felt far too sober at the moment to deal with them.

Leaning in towards Baladnor, Barmund lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "We're going to kill that orc."

Baladnor nearly choked. "What?" he nearly shrieked. Lowering his voice, Baladnor glared at his friend, appalled by his sheer stupidity. "Are you  _insane_? Magistrate Halbard has put the orc under lawful protection. You will be charged with  _murder_."

Barmund waved him off. "That charge will never stick. We can easily appeal to a higher court. Who would charge us with killing an orc. Besides," Barmund added with a smirk, "we'll be to the next province by morning. Magistrate Theodred will still pay a high price for an orc's head, and I doubt we will be turned over once we are safely out of Halbard's jurisdiction." Barmund's expression became grim. "People need to know what has been happening here," he said darkly. "Could you imagine what the world would be like, if orcs were suddenly allowed to come and go as they please?"

"You want me to abandon my home and my wife over the head of an orc?" Baladnor said darkly.

Barmund regarded Baladnor with an air of astonishment. "You most of all have a grievance against the creature," Barmund said. "After all, it is the same one that wounded you, and where is your deputy for protection, I wonder. Cadoc rode out with the orc and one of Halbard's men today. How easily the magistrate has forgotten his duty to his people in favor of this creature."

"They simply have not sent one yet," Baladnor told him, a little unnerved by this news. This would be a perfect time for the orc to attack. Why had it not come? Baladnor stared at the orange flecks of light in his drink, like orange eyes of the female imp. Baladnor frowned. Was that one of the orc's offspring? he wondered, remembering a tiny face sleeping in death. He pressed his hand to his belly, feeling the unnaturally hard, raised flesh of his wound through his shirt. "I will not abandon Ingrid," Baladnor said quietly, "and I will not be much help to you anyway. I cannot hold a sword." There. That should send Barmund on his way.

"You can hold an axe well enough can't you?" Barmund asked, clasping his friend's shoulder. "I though you would like the honor of taking its head. As for Ingrid, you could send for her later. Isn't her son in Minas Tirith? You could go there afterwards."

Sighing, Baladnor took an anxious sip. "I will have to say no to this," he told Barmund seriously. "I will not risk my freedom or my neck over an orc, and I cannot expect Ingrid to pick up everything to run from the local law."

Barmund looked away, angry. "I wonder where my friend has gone," he sneered, "who was not afraid to risk his  _life_  to do what was right. Oh," Barmund lifted the bottle of whisky and banged it back down on the table, " _this_  is where he has gone." Standing, Barmund started to leave, but paused at the kitchen doorway for a final word. "You will see how easily this blows over, and once we have done what you could not, we will expose the magistrate for the orc loving fool he is." Barmund stormed through the main room angrily, and Baladnor heard Ingrid bade him an anxious goodbye before the door slammed behind him.

"What was that all about?" Ingrid asked, peeking her head in the kitchen.

Baladnor stared into his glass, and tried to think of Serig's bones. Closing his eyes, he threw back his drink and rose stiffly from his seat. "I'm going out, Ingrid," Baladnor said slowly.

"What?" she said, worried. "Now? But... I was just going to make us tea."

Baladnor smiled at her warmly and cupped her soft white cheek in his hand. She was truly his greatest treasure. "I will not be long," he assured her. "There is something that I must do."

 


	23. The Cold Dark

**Splint**

**Chapter 23 The Cold Dark**

* * *

Halbard was not exactly sure what he was watching unfold in front of the courthouse, but he could not deny it was one of the more amusing things he had ever seen. Rukhash had just been released, and Cadoc was determined to get the orc to the safety of his sister's farm as quickly as possible. This involved riding a horse. Something which, Halbard observed, was not terribly popular among orcs.

"Rukhash," Cadoc said, pinching his nose with exasperation. "I need you to mount up first."

Rukhash shook her head with enthusiastic disagreement. "Fuck that," she said. "I never rode a fuckin' warg, I ain't gettin' on no sop of a horse. I'll run alongside ya. How's that?"

"You cannot  _run_  the entire way," Cadoc argued. "It is too far, and you have yet to recover your strength. Please, for me, get on the horse." From the corner of his eye, Cadoc noticed their escort, the young guard Edraithur, press his fist to his mouth to keep from laughing. He was already mounted, waiting on them with amused patience.

" _Nar_ ," the orcess growled, backing away, her hands up defensively. "I'll drag behind a fuckin' horse before you'll get me on one. He don't want no more ta do wit' me 'an I do wit' 'im."

It was true. When Cadoc brought Rukhash to face his mount, the old, dappled stallion nickered and shook its head, stamping nervously, but he didn't bolt. In fact, the longer the orcess stood near him, the more comfortable he was getting around her. Cadoc mentioned this to Rukhash.

" _Skai,_ " she hissed, "he's just bored a you yappin'. Let's go already, I'll keep up."

Cadoc ground his teeth and released a frustrated sigh through his nose. There were times when Rukhash could be inconceivably stubborn for the silliest of reasons. She was still far too thin and she had not engaged in any major physical activity for nearly two months. There was no way she would be able to spend half the day running, no matter how impressive she thought Uruk hai stamina was. She would collapse in an hour. The ranger debated giving in to her in an effort to prove his point, but he refused to see her injure herself in some way. After a long and painful stretch in prison, Cadoc did not want to treat her roughly, but in this case, he could think of no other solution aside from walking; and that option would take them over a day to reach his sister's. With his mouth drawn in a firm line, Cadoc advanced on Rukhash.

"What're you doing?" she said warily, easing back as he approached her. Before she could take a defensive stance, Cadoc grabbed her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

Rukhash yelped with surprise, and fell over him with a grunt. Realizing that Cadoc was turning and walking towards his steed, she dug her nails into the thick leather of his vest. "Fucking prick!" she shrieked. "Put me down! The fuck you think yer doing?"

" _Fuck!_ " she squawked as Cadoc mounted and the world spun dizzily around. The horse danced uneasily with the unbalanced weight, and Rukhash thought she might be sick as she was jostled from side to side. "Fuck, fuck,  _fuck!_ "

Cadoc shifted her weight to get better purchase on the orcess. He was surprised she wasn't fighting him more, but then she began to tremble with fear. She attached herself to him like a large, terrified cat; a terrified cat in a dress. Cadoc imagined they looked ridiculous. "Rukhash," he said calmly. "Rukhash," he repeated more sternly, "I need you to calm down."

"Fuck," she whimpered. Somewhere behind him, Edraithur was chuckling quietly.

"Rukhash," he sighed, "I cannot ride like this. I need you to calm down and get behind me on the saddle. Can you do that, please?" Cadoc felt her breathing slow as she reigned in her fear. She grumbled under her breath in orcish as she eased down and swung her leg around his side. Cadoc held her waist as she maneuvered behind him awkwardly. He knew that if he let her reach the ground, he would never get her back on the horse again.

She settled behind him, pressed her cheek into his back and wrapped her long, dark arms around Cadoc's chest, digging her claws in to emphasize just how much she did not appreciate his strong arming her. His rich, brown leather vest took most of the punishment, but Rukhash quietly hoped she was leaving permanent holes in his attire.

The horse stopped bobbing nervously underneath her, and Rukhash opened her eyes, trying to relax. She did not realize she shut them. Edraithur walked his mount up alongside them, a glistening, tawny mare with the blackest, deadest eyes Rukhash had ever seen. The young guard smiled gently at her. "How are you doing?" he asked lightly.

Rukhash lifted her head from Cadoc's back and concentrated on the ranger's dark, grey-streaked hair pulled into a rough horsetail. Taking a long, steadying breath, she focused on his comforting scent. Her legs felt oddly stretched, straddling the saddle, but she couldn't say she minded being pressed up against Cadoc in such an intimate way, especially since her dress had ridden up her leg a little. She was half tempted to do something naughty. "Guess it ain't so bad," she mused, "least, when it ain't bouncin' around under me."

Cadoc reached over to give her a comforting pat on her bare knee, and Rukhash loosened the death grip she had on his ribcage. "Are you ready?" Cadoc asked her.

Rukhash was fairly sure she was  _not_  ready, but she sighed and nodded anyway. "Let's get it over with," she rumbled. Cadoc snapped the reigns and Rukhash felt her whole world lurch forward. She barked out a frightened yelp and clasped herself closer to Cadoc's back, burrowing her forehead into the valley between his shoulder blades.

The ride to Edda's home was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of Rukhash's life. Even her first forays with a young male orc in Lugbúrz had not been so awkward, and that boy had left her with several scars she still carried. She bounced wildly in the saddle, and it took a mile of riding before she realized she had to clamp her thighs down to keep from being violently tossed around. Her grip on Cadoc must have been killing him, but he made no complaint as she clenched her hands into fists, gathering the leather of his vest in her palms.

By the time they reached Edda's the morning had turned into early afternoon and Rukhash thought her legs may have fallen off. Her jaw was clenched so tight, she had to stretch it as the horse came to a trot, and it popped loudly. The sight of Edda's familiar main house was both comforting and distressing. Rukhash had not seen Cadoc's sister since she tried to take a swipe at her. The orcess quietly hoped she had not destroyed the regard Edda had for her, because Rukhash could finally admit to herself that she felt a real fondness for Edda. She felt a real fondness for all of Cadoc's family, even Morwen, and that had been the problem. Rukhash quietly frowned at the back of Cadoc's head. She did not want to dwell on those thoughts, not when she was so close to leaving. She should make amends and part ways on good terms. She owed that to Cadoc and his relatives. More likely than not, she would never see them again. Besides, it didn't matter what her old clan thought of her. They were all dead.

* * *

He had just eaten a late lunch, and the Magistrate Halbard was settling in for a long afternoon of paperwork when a stray movement outside caught his eye. Halbard stared down from his narrow office window at the old, gray nag approaching the courthouse with an air of astonishment. Mounted on top was Baladnor, red faced and sweating profusely. Mounted, was perhaps, not entirely accurate. The man was half falling out of his saddle, clutching his middle with a grimace of pure agony.

Calling two guards to accompany him, Halbard hurried down the several stairways to the main steps, and met Baladnor as he brought the old nag to a stop. Damrod and Lossen caught Baladnor as he slid from the saddle, exhausted and nearly unconscious.

"Bring him inside," Halbard told the pair, and they rushed Baladnor up the steps.

Reaching for the magistrate's robes, Baladnor halted their progression. "Wait," he wheezed. "There is no time. They've already gone."

Halbard leaned in closer to hear the man better, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Who has gone?"

Steadying himself, Baladnor did his beast to ignore his pain and stand on his own. He was surprised that he felt no hesitation at what he was about to do. "Barmund," he said, regaining his breath. "Barmund has rallied the other hunters. They are going to Elador's to kill the orc. He has a head start; at least an hour, maybe more. It took me that long to procure a horse from my neighbor and get here. I would have send Ingrid, but she does not know how to ride."

"How do you know this?" Halbard demanded.

"Because he asked me to go with him," Baladnor admitted.

"And you came here to warn me instead?" Halbard asked, amazed.

He wanted to be indignant, but Baladnor could understand the magistrate's astonishment. More than fear for the orc, Baladnor feared for any that stood in Barmund's path. Baladnor's thoughts went to Edda and her children, who had an obvious fondness for their beastly friend. Baladnor still felt guilt for what he had done, he still felt some debt was owed somewhere, but he was not entirely ready to admit that to himself, let alone the magistrate. "Barmund is not known for his restraint," Baladnor said. "I have little love for Cadoc or his orc, but I would not see the man dead, and I doubt Barmund and the others will be merciful if Cadoc or any of his relatives try to interfere with their hunt."

Baladnor saw something flash across the magistrate's features then, a sense of respect, and Baladnor knew for certain that he had done the right thing. Halbard was many things, but he was not a fool. He was an honest man. Even though Baladnor struggled to agree with him on this matter, he could finally see the wisdom in Halbard's decision.

Halbard nodded tightly and signaled the guards. "Call together as many men as you can, and see that Baladnor is taken inside." Turning to Baladnor, the magistrate laid a thankful hand on his shoulder. "Rest," he said. "You have done enough coming here and warning me. I will see that justice is preserved."

* * *

The second Cadoc halted his stallion, Rukhash slid awkwardly from the saddle onto the ground and collapsed to her knees; touching her forehead to the cool, still grass and relishing the solid ground underneath her. "I ain't never doin' that again," she swore adamantly. Her legs were killing her.

Cadoc dismounted and tied the reins to the post of the cottage porch, shaking his head at Rukhash's dramatics. "I promise," he said, "we will walk the entire way to Mordor, though it  _would_  be quicker if we rode."

"Don't care if it takes us a year," Rukhash growled as she stood on wobbly legs. "Don't care if it takes us  _seven_  years. You ain't gettin' me on a horse."

Edraithur chuckled as he tied his horse next to Cadoc's. "Do you mind if I water Baidroch and Bruidal before I leave?" he asked with an amused smile.

"Of course not," Cadoc assured the guard, and proceeded to point him in the direction of the pails and water pump. "Come inside and refresh yourself before you go," Cadoc added. "It was a long ride from town. You must thank Halbard for me. His horse was sure footed and very well behaved."

Rukhash snorted at that as she stepped up onto the porch. Her gait had a slightly drunken stagger from riding for so long. "That ain't what my sore arse is tellin' me."

Rukhash opened the cottage door to find Edda and Morwen in the kitchen preparing lunch on the long countertop. A little startled to see them so soon after returning, Rukhash stood stiffly next to the hearth. She hoped she would have more time before she had to face them, and Rukhash licked her lips nervously, unsure of what to say.

Morwen and Edda likewise paused what they were doing to stare at the orcess. Edda looked anxious, turning a washrag over in her hands with a worried line across her forehead. Morwen, somehow, did not have her mother's reservations. Before Edda could stop her, the young girl crossed the span of the main room and embraced Rukhash fiercely. Rukhash froze, immobilized by shock. Beyond Morwen's dark curls in her face, Rukhash saw Edda's eyes widen in horror.

"Uncle Cadoc says you're feeling better," the girl said, and squeezed the orcess a little more fervently. "I'm glad," she added in an unsteady voice. "I'm glad you're back."

Rukhash nearly sighed with exasperation. Morwen really was a good hearted kid, and Rukhash really didn't feel she deserved the trust this girl still had in her. The orcess wrapped her arms around her and rested her head against Morwen's soft hair, returning the embrace. "Me too," Rukhash said simply.

"We've made you some lunch," Edda said shakily, and Rukhash released Morwen, noticing Edda's stance relax once the girl was out of her grasp. Rukhash frowned, and realized Edda was not quite as ready to forgive her. Surprisingly, the orcess did not feel hurt by this. She doubted she would be quick to forgive if Edda suddenly turned on  _her_.

Cadoc was leaning in the doorway, observing the whole exchange. He entered and smiled as he brushed Rukhash's shoulder in a reassuring caress. "Give her a little time," he whispered under his breath as he passed by Rukhash and went to stand by his sister busying herself at the counter.

Rukhash watched as Cadoc gave Edda a light hug and whispered quietly in her ear. The orcess couldn't quite make out what he said, and she felt suddenly out of place, as though she were butting in; even though it was obvious Edda and Morwen were making lunch in the cottage on her behalf. "Gonna go change," she said awkwardly to their backs. Cadoc nodded to her and Rukhash ducked into her bedroom.

Rukhash found her room was in the same condition she had left it, though it had been tidied in her absence. Her weapons were on the dresser, laid neatly in front of her pots of herbs and salves. Rukhash assumed Cadoc or Edda needed the space they occupied on the counter. Rukhash pulled open the drawers to find her ragged loincloths and tunics and pair of leather breeches and arm warmers all laundered and neatly folded. Rukhash sniffed lightly at them, surprised by how clean they smelled. Leather and fur couldn't be washed in water without doing damage, and they never smelled that clean when she had aired them out. The orcess mentally noted to ask how Edda had managed that, once the woman was ready to speak to her again.

In another drawer were the old dresses Edda had lent her; green and gray and orange colors, and Rukhash decided to wear one of those. Best to put on a good face for everyone. Rukhash always liked the rust dress; so she pulled that on and ran her claws through her windblown hair – she could kill Cadoc for throwing her on that horse – and tied it back with a little leather tie from her rucksack.

She sat on her narrow bed, listening to the voices that had gathered in the main room. Elador's soft baritone was there and Edraithur's gentle tenor. Guthwen's raspy laugh and Wulf's excited jabbering reached her ears; even Hallas's squeals. Rukhash realized they had all gathered on her account, but she was not in the mood to stand in the middle of them while they fussed. Rukhash fingered the soft wool of her skirt, quiet and thoughtful, and wondered if she might wait them all out in her room.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Rukhash thought it was Cadoc come to fetch her. Instead, Edda that hesitantly entered; putting on a brave face despite the anxiety of her bearing. "Am I disturbing you?" Edda asked.

Rukhash almost laughed. It was Edda's house, after all. If anything, Rukhash thought that she had done a fairly good job of disturbing Edda. " _Nar_ ," she said instead. "Just catchin' a bit a quiet 'fore I go out there. Sounds crowded."

Edda shut the door behind her and sat gingerly in the bed next to Rukhash, smoothing her dark skits out of restless habit. "I apologize," she said, "for the cold reception that I gave you."

Huffing, Rukhash closed her eyes, weary of politeness. "You ain't got nothin' ta apologize fer," she said. "I shouldn'ta been such an arse about things. Had my own shit ta work through what had nothin' ta do wit' you. Don't blame ya fer bein' angry, or whatever yer feelin' right now. I wouldn't be real happy wit' me if I were in yer place."

"You just..." Edda hesitated with a worried frown. "You just seemed so...savage when we tried to see you."

Rukhash snorted with black amusement. "Ain't that a dainty way ta put it," the orcess said with a mirthless smile. Rukhash regarded Cadoc's sister thoughtfully. "I'm sorry you had ta see that side a me. Weren't somethin' I wanted ta show ya, but 'ats me too, ya know. Don't excuse it. I were real cross, but I shouldn't a took it out on you or the kids. I was tryin' ta push ya away...it were stupid, and I'm sorry. I really am, but I understand if ya don't feel like forgivin' me."

Edda smiled weakly and stood, her back to Rukhash. She wrung her hands nervously, and the orcess could tell she had something more to say.  _Come on, sis_ , Rukhash thought as Edda fidgeted.  _Spit it out an' clear the air already._

"I know about you and Cadoc," Edda said finally, and turned to face Rukhash. The orcess blinked. That, she had not expected. "I saw the scratches you gave him," she continued, turning a little red, "and I figured it out."

Rukhash swallowed. "So ya know," she said slowly. "Are ya raw 'bout it?"

"I wasn't at first," Edda admitted, "but then you turned so suddenly, and now I am afraid. I am afraid that you will hurt him."

"I'd never hurt Cadoc," Rukhash insisted.

"You already have!" Edda nearly shouted. "You already have," she said more quietly. "When you turned your back on him. You did not see how worried he was, how terrified he was for you. He spent most of his time with you or at the inn, brooding when he could not see you, and when he was here he could barely eat. He felt guilty for any comfort while you were imprisoned, and you repaid his concern with cruelty. Now he will journey with you, for however long it takes to get you home, and I am afraid for my brother. He loves you, and I know you cannot feel the same for him. You would not have treated him as you did if you loved him in return."

Cadoc's sister was nearly in tears. Rukhash didn't know what to tell her to ease her fear and grief. It was true, Cadoc had been hurt by her treatment, and she had meant to hurt him to drive him away, but Rukhash felt she had her head on strait now. She would not blame Cadoc for her own failings. Rukhash stood, and ignored the worried step back Edda took. The orcess came to stand before the dresser, and laid her hand on the sheath of her curved dagger.

"Men 'ave always been my enemy, Edda," Rukhash said quietly, not turning to gauge the woman's reaction. "Ever since I were a lil' sprog on my dad's knee, that what I were taught."

"I have never even seen an orc until I met you," Edda argued.

"That ain't the point," Rukhash growled, glaring at her, and Edda cringed a little at the predatory coldness in her eyes. "My folk don't care what you are or aren't. What it were you did or didn't do. That don't make no difference! An enemy's an enemy. There's a part a me 'ats glad you seen my nastier side. You let me in yer house without a second thought. If I were a snake, I'd a bit you all while you were sleepin'." Rukhash took a calming breath. "You folk are too damn nice," she said gently. "An' I were surprised ta see it when I come here. An' I'm glad I seen it. Now, I can't call all men my enemy, 'cause some a you 'ave been my friend, an' that were are hard thing fer me ta come to, especially after bein' reminded of all the death yer folk have dealt me. I got a lot a weight I can't let go a. There's shit I wish I could make different, an' it kills me that I can't, but I won't hold that against you no more."

Rukhash took Edda's hands in hers, and though the woman stiffened she didn't scream or recoil. She was listening. "I won't hurt yer brother, Edda. I could never stick 'im in the back. I was mad, 'cause I felt like her were replacing my mate, and I was mad cause I didn't  _want_  to feel that for 'im. He ain't an orc an I ain't a woman an' part a that feels wrong ta me, but I won't take it out on Cadoc; not again. Just like I won't take it out on you, the fact that you started ta be a sis ta me. I'd ask that ya forgive me, but I understand if you won't."

Edda gave her hands a little squeeze. "Of course I will forgive you," she said sadly, "but I hope you will understand if I do not trust you as readily."

Rukhash nodded. "I understand that too," she said quietly. "I ain't tryin' ta trick you, Edda. I was tryin' a trick myself, an' I'm sorry Cadoc had ta suffer fer it."

Edda nodded quietly and slid her hands from Rukhash's grip. Rukhash could tell from her expression that Edda was still troubled. She was still worried for her brother. Rukhash could not think of anything else to say to convince her that Cadoc would be safe, that what they shared would not bring him pain. Rukhash wasn't entirely sure she could convince herself of it.

When she stepped out into the main room behind Edda, Rukhash had to admit she felt a little overwhelmed. She had never seen so many people in the little cottage she shared with Cadoc over the winter, and a part of her felt as though they were intruding. In the same breath, she realized that she was the intruder here. This had never been Rukhash's world. She had always been a visitor, and it was a foolish notion to think she might have ever been anything else.

They all had such a natural ease with each other. Elador was speaking to Cadoc in the kitchen while Wulf politely eavesdropped on their conversation. Morwen seemed to be getting awfully friendly with Edraithur. She kept batting her eyes while he rubbed his neck anxiously, and Rukhash quietly wondered what they were talking about. Edda went to join her mother and Hallas on the sofa. Rukhash stood in the doorway to the bedroom and tried to make herself as small as possible. She knew the moment she walked in that room, she would be the center of focus, and she hated it. She missed being able to walk through a crowd without anyone gawking, or staring – whether out of curiosity or horror – or giving her the hairy eyeball.

"Rukhash," Cadoc was calling her. "Come, eat something. You must be starving."

She dutifully walked to the kitchen and ducked her head as she approached Elador. He had only come to see her once, and she had mainly ignored him. Elador had always kept a polite distance, even when she had helped him with the chores. Rukhash always thought, of all Cadoc's kin, he had been the one to trust her least, despite his friendly hospitality and sympathetic nature. A part of her respected his wariness, though now she wondered if he would have harsh words for her as well.

He didn't. Elador gave her a polite nod and a small smile before turning back to Cadoc to continue their conversation. There was some cured meat laid out, and Rukhash finished that off, not interested in the cheese or fruit. Wulf ran up next to her staring intently at her hands as she made her plate. Rukhash always wondered if there was something a little off with Wulf. He was definitely the most whimsical of Edda's children.

"How was prison?" he blurted out. The conversation around them came to a sudden halt. Edda started to scold him from her seat on the couch.

"Borin'," Rukhash told him cooly. "Stay outta it."

Wulf nodded as if she had just imparted sage advice. "You're going home soon, huh?" he asked as if he didn't know already.

"Yea," the orcess said, amused that he was so eager to strike up a conversation. She stuffed a piece of salted pork into her mouth.

"You're not coming back, are you?" the boy said as he held her gaze. Rukhash had to admit, he was a forward kid. It was what she liked about him. Wulf didn't mince words.

" _Nar_ ," she confirmed.

The boy nodded and started fishing through his trouser pocket. "I want to give you something," he said as he pulled out a small ball of fuzz. Rukhash frowned and opened her hand to him. She hoped he wasn't going to give her a bunch of lint to take with her.

Wulf dropped a small, tawny foot in her hand. For a moment, Rukhash could only blink at it, utterly dumbfounded. It was impressively preserved; quiet thoroughly dried, though the hair was feather soft. A little piece of twine looped off of the end. Rukhash ran her thumb along the length, appreciating the delicate bones through the downy fur. "You catch this?" she said, impressed.

"Yup," he said with a cocky grin. "Last spring, when me and my dad went hunting. It's my lucky rabbit's foot. I want you to have it, to bring you luck on your journey."

"This is somethin' you should give to yer mum," Rukhash told him, extremely touched.

"Oh dear," Edda laughed anxiously, "you are more than welcome to keep it, Rukhash."

Rukhash thought she might cry. The orcess put a hand on Wulf's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. The boy looked pleased that she was so happy with her present. "I'm puttin' this on my  _vrasgirdan_ , right next to Rangmau's bird claw," the orcess said, blinking back some emotion. She had no idea  _tarks_  had such orcish customs.

"What's that?" Wulf asked, scrunching up his nose.

"I'll show ya," Rukhash said, hurrying into her bedroom. She rustled through her pack for several seconds until her hand found the familiar twine of bones and teeth. She used to wear it all the time, but she had taken it off when she started wearing Edda's dresses, afraid to frighten anyone. There were no human bones on it. Rukhash had killed a few men when she was living on her own, but those had been acts of desperation, and she hadn't the time to collect trophies from them. Anbagûrz's  _vrasgirdan_  had been very impressive, with dozens and dozens of human teeth and bones and even a  _golug_  ear, but Rukhash's necklace was composed primarily of wolf and boar teeth. Now, she was glad for it.

Rukhash emerged from her room and went strait to Wulf, holding the necklace up for him. The boy's eyes widened, impressed by her collection. "Woah," he gasped. "You caught all of those?"

"These're only the best of 'em," Rukhash corrected him. "The  _vrasgirdan_  is a trophy necklace. You don't just put anythin' on it."

"Can I hold it?" Wulf said excitedly.

"Yea, yea," the orcess said brightly as she handed him the long, jangling necklace. The entire room had stopped to look at them, but Rukhash barely noticed as she pointed out the various animal canines and tusks and claws and neck bones to Wulf, who nodded and oohed and ahhed. There were a few different sized bird claws in the middle, presents from her daughter, and Rukhash carefully undid the looping ties that held the necklace together.

Cadoc noticed his sister had a horrified yet fascinated expression. Edraithur and Morwen had stopped flirting to watch the proceedings. Elador raised a brow at Cadoc, and he shrugged casually, unsure of what to say. He had never seen Rukhash so excited to share a part of her culture.

"Is that a  _bear_  claw?" Wulf said, pointing to the long, black claws next to the bird feet.

"Yea," Rukhash said, smiling. "I didn't catch no bear though. My mate gave me that when we made things permanent. Used it's skin fer our bed." The orcess smiled a thoughtful smile then, remembering. "Killed that ol' beast al by hisself. My Rangmau caught these," the orcess added, pointing to a robin and sparrow's foot. "They were her first kills. I were so proud. Birds ain't easy ta catch. An' yer rabbit's goin' right next to em." She slid Wulf's rabbit foot down one of the parallel rough pieces of twine, so it fell near the claws in the center of the necklace. She pulled a thick, chipped boar tusk off and handed it to Wulf.

"I'm gonna give you this," she said. "It were the first big beast I caught when I were on my own. Nearly took my arm off."

Wulf received Rukhash's gift with awed reverence. "This is amazing," he said appreciatively as he turned the ivory tooth over in his hands. It was easily as big as his palm. "Thank you!"

Cadoc noticed a soft, unsure smile form on Edda's lips before she resumed her conversation with their mother. Guthwen shook her head lightly, amused. They finished up lunch in short order, and Edraithur finally managed to pull his attention away from Morwen long enough to bid everyone farewell.

"I have a long ride back," he explained as he shook Elador's hand," but thank you for inviting me to lunch."

"Of course," Elador said, nodding curtly. The young guard's long conversation with his daughter had not escaped his notice.

Turning towards the orcess, Edraithur titled his head towards her. "It was certainly interesting," he said with a half smile that Rukhash returned. "I wish you well on your journey."

Rukhash cast a glance in Morwen's direction. The girl was waiting to walk him out. "Wish you well on  _yers_ ," the orcess said suggestively, grinning, and Edraithur blushed red.

The rest of the family filed out not long after, intent on getting on with the day. Edda and Guthwen cleared the counter and promised a late dinner to compensate for the large lunch. Soon it was just Cadoc and Rukhash, alone. The orcess stood by the counter for a long while, fingering the teeth and claws on her necklace, and lightly petting her new addition. She wondered if Wulf knew what it meant to pass a trophy to an older female: the respect that it entailed. Rukhash wished she knew he was so interested in hunting, but quickly caught herself in that thought. What would she have done? Take him out hunting with her? Bind herself  _more_  to this family? Rukhash ran her thumb along the smooth sharpness of the bear claw, black as her own skin.

"How long have you had that?" Cadoc asked, standing beside her. Rukhash hadn't realized he was so close.

"Years an' years," she told him. "Were wearin' it when I met ya, but I kept it under my tunic. Didn't want it catchin' on anythin'."

"I never noticed it," Cadoc admitted, feeling lax in his observations.

"You weren't lookin' under my tunic then," she said, turning towards him with a lecherous grin. Cadoc smiled sheepishly and rubbed his neck. "Think I should start packin'?" Rukhash asked suddenly.

Frowning, Cadoc regarded her quietly. "I don't think we need to do that right away," he said. "You just regained your freedom. Is there anything in particular you feel like doing?"

Rukhash's eyes roamed over him. Once he had been so alien to her, and now she looked upon his pale face with a sense of comfort. He was not even so ugly to her anymore, even with his day old scruff. She felt as though she owed him another apology. She had been apologizing to him for the past four weeks, but it didn't seem like enough. He had stood with her despite her vile temperament. It was something a  _shaûk_  would do, and Rukhash wasn't sure how she felt about that. She wasn't ready for another  _shaûk_ , and Rukhash wasn't even sure if a man could be one. After all, her grandparents were not  _shaûk_ , no matter how fond her nan was of her granddad. Cadoc spoke of love, but he loved his wife and still left her. Rukhash could not call him  _shaûk_  and then abandon him at the end of their journey, and she wasn't entirely sure what it was men felt when they loved, so it would be wrong for her to return the sentiment. So, she apologized again, because it was the only thing she could think to do.

"You don't need to keep saying you are sorry," Cadoc sighed. "I have already forgiven you."

Rukhash shrugged and began to tie her  _vrasgirdan_  back up. Cadoc covered her hands with his own, stilling them. He was tanner now that he was spending more time outside, but Rukhash still thought they contrasted sharply, his white hands against her black. Cadoc tilted her head towards him, and Rukhash thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her, but he merely rested his forehead against hers. His thumb traced slowly along her jaw while his other arm half embraced her. He was not holding her tightly, and Rukhash realized Cadoc was letting her make this decision. She could pull away from him easily, if she wanted.

Rukhash reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer so she could press her lips against his. Cadoc responded to this enthusiastically, and Rukhash caught herself before she gave in to her baser instincts. He took this sort of thing more seriously than her, she reminded herself, and she needed him to understand how she felt.

Leaning away from his mouth, she caught his grey eyes with her own. "I care about you," she told him honestly, "but I ain't ready ta care that deep."

"I understand," he said, his eyes soft as he brushed a stray hair behind her pointed ear.

Rukhash snorted quietly. "Yer gonna kill me with yer understandin'," she said breathily. "I ain't nearly as generous."

"Then," Cadoc said, leaning in towards her ear, "I will have to be generous enough for the both of us." Then his mouth was on hers, and Rukhash didn't fight it. She opened her mouth to him as he deepened the kiss, and leaned back her head obligingly when he abandoned her mouth to trail his lips across her throat. "I've missed you," he said huskily before catching her mouth again.

Rukhash pressed herself closer to him as his attention turned to her ear. "Missed you too," she admitted as she embraced him, enjoying the reverent way his hands trailed over her body, as if she were something precious and fine. Rukhash had nearly lost herself in their passion when she opened her eyes long enough to catch sight of an infuriated face staring in at them through the kitchen window.

Rukhash's whole body went stiff with silent fear. Worse than if it were Elador or Hedon or someone she knew, Rukhash had no idea who it was looking in on them. Cadoc, sensing her sudden change in posture looked to her face and followed her line of sight.

Cadoc swore and released her immediately. They jumped away from each other with the same thought. Cadoc rushed to where his sword was propped up by the door while Rukhash headed for her bedroom to fetch her own weapon. Before he could reach his blade, the door to the main room burst open. The old bolt lock had never been drawn. Cadoc quietly cursed his stupidity, but it was still day, and he thought they were safe.

The first man through the door struck a staff across his face with enough force to throw Cadoc sideways into the wall. The ranger made another dive for his weapon, but two more men were on him already. Cadoc managed to elbow one of them hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of him, but the staff wielder hit him hard in the kidneys, and Cadoc doubled over to have another blow struck on his back. Then, he was on the ground and he was surrounded by boots stomping and kicking him.

The first man through Rukhash's door met with an arrow in his chest. The next was not so careless, and she missed him completely. Rukhash pulled her serrated blade from where she stuck it in the wooden floor and, remembering to hold the hilt with two hands, met the hunter's sword with a metallic clash. For a brief moment, she thought she might match the man evenly, but then several of his partners streamed in from the main room and the second door to Cadoc's room, and she was overwhelmed.

The orcess roared as a blade caught her arm and another thrust into her thigh. She kicked out at one man, only to have another push her back into the corner. Then, her blade was out of her hands, and Rukhash snarled wildly as she lashed out with teeth and claws, not caring who or what she was hitting. She managed to catch one man in the throat, and he screamed a gurgling yell and fell back. Someone grabbed her arm and spun her, and Rukhash brought her claws around in a wide arc. Then, there was a searing pain through her middle. Rukhash looked down to see a bright blade buried in her gut, her dark blood seeping into the rust dress, staining it black. She coughed raggedly, a metallic taste in her mouth, and the man that stuck her smiled as he pulled his blade free.

Rukhash fell gracelessly backwards, crashing into the dresser and her rucksack before hitting the floor. Hands were pawing at her, grabbing her arms and fisting her hair in their greasy palms. She was dragged out of her room, still struggling sluggishly. The hole in her stomach was leaking at an alarming rate, but Rukhash would not give up. It could take hours for a gut wound to kill her. She ignored the pain and twisted against the men restraining her, but they managed to drag her into the main room anyway.

Cadoc was being held down as well, his face a mess of dark bruises. They had done a number on him, but when he saw Rukhash, bloody and fighting them, he found a surge of strength in himself and managed to push one of the men off of him. This was rewarded with a boot to his face.

"She has protection!" Cadoc screamed over the dull pounding of his pulse in his ears.

"The law of an orc loving fool means nothing to us," a dark voice said from the doorway, and Barmund came to stand before Cadoc, who struggled as the orc hunter bent down to look him in the eye. "You will thank us when we've killed this witch, and you are no longer a slave to her."

Cadoc spat red in Barmund's face. "You will let her go," Cadoc growled, "or I will hunt you down and kill you myself!"

Barmund wiped his eye and gestured towards his comrades. "Bring them outside," he said evenly.

They brought Rukhash out before him, and Cadoc was horrified to be dragged through the dark trail of blood she left behind. His struggling was met with frequent clouts to the head or kicks to the stomach. One of the men jerked his arm back, and Cadoc's shoulder dislocated with a loud pop. They were hauling him down the stairs, and Cadoc saw that there were five more men outside with crossbows trained towards his sister and Elador, who stood a little ways up the hill, looking on in horror. Morwen was screaming in the distance, most likely being held back by his mother.

Rukhash was getting dizzy, and her growls had trailed off as they threw her across the block that Cadoc used for chopping wood. Her shoulders were being pressed down, but she found her strength was leaving her quickly. She felt her blood seeping down her stomach and over her thighs. The world seemed to dim and slow. She saw Cadoc, struggling against four men who took turns holding him down and striking him. He was yelling, cursing, and a little part of Rukhash smiled with black humor. She was fairly sure he had heard a few of those swear words from her.

There was a dull rumbling beneath her, but Rukhash was focused on Cadoc as he fought. She wanted to tell him that it was all right. He had fought for her enough.

The arms holding her down suddenly disappeared, and she slumped to the ground as legs hurried past her. The rumbling was very loud now, almost deafening, and she thought she heard Halbard's booming voice, but she couldn't be sure. Everything seemed to get fuzzy around her.

Rukhash stared up at the lazy blue sky, listless and weak. There was a firm but gentle pressure on her wound, and Cadoc's bruised and battered face appeared before her. He was telling her to hold on, and calling for Auron. Rukhash tried to say something, but her voice wouldn't work. She managed to find the strength to reach for him, and brushed her thumb against the thick tears on his face, leaving a streak of her own, black red blood behind. She could not remember ever seeing him cry before.

_Don't be sad,_ she thought, as her vision tunneled _. I ain't got no regrets._

There were other faces now, Edda and Elador and Halbard looking down on her with sad expressions. Auron was rushing in, moving Cadoc out of the way, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. Rukhash closed her eyes as she felt her pain begin to slip away.  _I'm comin' Anba._

Then, there was nothing, and Rukhash embraced the cold dark.


	24. The Wait

**Chapter 24 The Wait**

**AN:**  Okay... this may be the chapter where I loose everyone. Anyway, it's been fun having readers while I had them.

* * *

Edda's small cottage had the somber reverence of a funeral. It was almost oppressive, but Edraithur was still glad he was chosen to guard it. Three days had passed, and two of the men that attacked Cadoc and his orc were still at large. Magistrate Halbard wished to take no chances.

The village healer was staying in Edda's main house. Rukhash was still in a tentative condition, and Auron did not want to be far. One of his patients had come by to see him for a routine condition, but old spinsters did not qualify as a threat to Edraithur, and he left Damrod outside to stand in the main room.

Cadoc spent most of his time at Rukhash's bedside, knelt beside her bed or resting in a chair nearby. Despite his own injuries, Cadoc stood vigil as though the orc were a dying wife, and Edraithur could not shake his earlier suspicions that their relationship was much more than most suspected.

Edraithur watched Morwen help her mother in the kitchen; preparing the medicines Auron had prescribed. He had wanted to spend more time with her, but certainly not like this. Her face was as drawn and grave as her mother's. The entire family seemed sick with grief, and Edraithur quietly cursed himself for not staying a little longer yesterday. He might have helped to prevent this, and at the same time, he knew that was most likely not true. Barmund had come with a dozen men. They would have still been hopelessly outnumbered. If Baladnor had not warned the magistrate, Morwen and her family would most likely be in mourning right now.

A sharp rapping brought Edraithur to attention. The young guard squared his shoulders and answered the door. Hedon was on the other side of it. The young ranger was an old friend of Cadoc's, so Edraithur let him in. He went immediately to Edda and embraced her.

"How is he?" Hedon asked.

Edda swallowed thickly, rubbing her tired eyes. "He's in with Rukhash," Edda told him. "See if you cannot persuade him to come out and eat something, or rest. He has his own injuries and he has barely slept."

Hedon nodded quietly. "And how is the orc?"

Edda frowned miserably. "Not well," she admitted. "Auron has done all he can for her, but she lost so much blood." Edda covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes against the emotion. "There was so much blood, Hedon," she whispered through her hand.

His mouth drew in a firm line, troubled. Hedon embraced Edda again before padding quietly to the small bedroom where Rukhash slept. The door was ajar, and the young ranger peered into the dim room. Rukhash lay on the narrow bed, still as death. Her coloring seemed a little pale, as odd as that notion was, but her black skin was a shade lighter and sallow. She had been wrapped in a dark blue robe to make changing her bandages an easier task. The robe was far to big for her, and it made her seem even smaller than Hedon remembered.

Cadoc was kneeling by her bedside, clasping her hand in his and pressing it to his forehead. Hedon could hear Cadoc speaking, but it wasn't to Rukhash. He murmured repetitive, even sentences, and Hedon realized, with some shock, that he was praying. Hedon considered Cadoc many things: an honorable man, and a brave man, but never a pious one. Cadoc himself had told him once that prayer was the last recourse of the desperate. Hedon listened to his old friend recite petitions, and there was desperation in his voice.

With a light tap at the door jam, Hedon entered. Cadoc quickly composed himself, and Hedon heard the older man sniffle before he wiped his eyes and stood to face him. Frowning, Hedon realized why Edda was so worried about her brother. Much of the swelling had gone down, but he still bore significant bruises on his face and neck. Hedon did not wish to think of what injuries his shirt hid. Cadoc looked exhausted and Hedon wondered if he had slept at all since the attack.

"You sister is concerned for you health," Hedon told Cadoc quietly. "I must say, I am as well. You look terrible."

A pained look crossed Cadoc's features, and he turned to look at Rukhash. "It was my own carelessness that did this," he said miserably. "If she dies..." Cadoc clenched his jaw, and Hedon thought for a moment that he might weep, but the older ranger took a steadying breath. "I will not abandon her," Cadoc said at last.

Hedon regarded his weary friend seriously. "There is nothing you could have done that would have stopped those men. They were determined to kill her. Be thankful Magistrate Halbard was able to stop them in time."

Swallowing roughly, Cadoc sat, stiff legged, in the small wooden chair next to Rukhash's bed, resting his elbows on his thighs and bowing his head. "I should have never brought her here."

Hedon crouched in front of Cadoc. "You cannot see all ends," Hedon told him quietly.

His behavior troubled Hedon. He had never witnessed Cadoc grieve so thoroughly; not even after his marriage ended. The young ranger could understand a sense of guilt on Cadoc's part, but it was just as likely Rukhash would live as die. Friends they may be, but friendship did not explain this all encompassing sorrow that overwhelmed Cadoc. When they had arrested Barmund, he had made some outrageous claims that Hedon had immediately dismissed as a madman's ravings, but seeing Cadoc's misery, he found them a little less dismissive.

Hedon's gaze slid towards the sleeping orcess with slow, scandalous realization. "She is more than a friend to you, isn't she?" Hedon asked slowly, amazed that Cadoc would do something so reckless.

Cadoc's head bowed quietly and Hedon realized that was his answer.

Sighing, he searched for something to say. Hedon had no personal quarrel with the orc – he thought she was rather amusing, actually – but she was still an  _orc_. It was a ghastly thought: the pair of them together, but this was neither the time or place to take Cadoc to task for his actions.

"She is going to be cross with you, when she wakes up and sees what you have done to yourself," Hedon said with a weak smile.

Cadoc laughed breathily and looked up at his friend, his lips twitched with bitter amusement. "You are probably right."

Standing, Hedon clasped his friend and mentor's shoulder, and pushed aside his anxiety at this new knowledge. "Come," Hedon said, " _eat_  something, and rest. I will stay with her for a while so you can sleep."

After assuring Cadoc had eaten and was resting, Hedon found himself at the orc's bedside. He regarded her lax face thoughtfully. Amusement aside, he could not understand what Cadoc could possibly see in her. He supposed the older man knew her far better than he. Still, friendship was one thing, what Cadoc had done was something completely different. Hedon recalled Cadoc's fervent praying at her side with a frown. "For  _his_  sake," Hedon told her quietly, "I hope you wake soon, orc."

* * *

A dark shore stretched endlessly into nothingness; its beach covered in large, smooth stones. The water was as black as the sky and so glassy still it only rippled where the waves gently lapped against the rocks. There were no stars except one: a giant six pointed light as large as the moon. It hung low in the sky; hovering just above the horizon. Rukhash wondered how it was possible that it cast light, yet produced no reflection.

It was strangely quiet. No birds, no wind, not even the water made a sound. Rukhash stared out into the sea, her eyes fixed on the strange star. She had no idea where she was. In all her life she had never seen a sea, and now that she stood before one she felt very small; insignificant in the great scope of things.

She remembered the sword, and Rukhash pressed her hand to her belly, expecting to find a wound where the blade pierced her, but felt nothing but smooth flesh. Looking, she realized there was not even a scar; and startled when she discovered she had no scars anywhere on her body. Her brow furrowed. Why was she naked?

A low, gruff voice pierced the silence. "Rukhash…"

Swallowing thickly, she was almost afraid to turn around to face that voice. She had heard it every night in her dreams for the past five years, but to hear it now, real and not remembered, was both a joy and a sorrow. She turned and answered,"Anba."

He looked just as she remembered him. Almost. The deep trench that spanned the right side of his skull was now smooth and even – as if his old injury had never occurred – and his other scars were gone as well; leaving his skin as smooth and black as her own. Otherwise, there was no mistaking him for anyone else beside her Anbagûrz. He looked at her with blood red eyes; gentle despite their deep setting under his brow. Rukhash found that her legs were moving of their own accord. She picked her way up the incline to the particularly large granite stone that he was sitting, cross legged, on. As she approached him, she realized there was a small body curled up in the crook of his knee. Rukhash recognized Rangmau's thick mop of dark hair immediately.

Standing beside him, she was reminded of his enormous size. Sitting, his shoulders reached her chest, and he was easily twice as broad as her; a monster of a male. Rukhash stood beside her long dead  _shaûk_ ; reaching out with a tentative hand to touch him; not believing he was really there. She brushed her palm gently across his skull – where his scar should have been – and he closed his eyes briefly in response to her touch.

"Got my brains back," he said with a lopsided grin, and Rukhash marveled at his clear, even speech. He had never been able to speak so easily when she had known him.

"I'm glad," she told him simply. She had so much that she wanted to say, but it was enough that she was here and he was here. She breathed in his familiar scent, something that she had long thought lost to her.

"The mite fell asleep," he said, looking down at his lap. Rangmau was resting peacefully, her tiny chest rising and falling in deep, slow breaths. Rukhash frowned when she noticed her son was missing.

"Where's Raugvarg, 'en?" she asked, concerned.

"Gone on ahead," Anbagûrz told her, looking out over the dark horizon. "He didn't 'ave tuh wait."

Rukhash followed his gaze, and found herself staring at the strange star. It gave off a warm glow, almost comforting, but she felt a yearning also. She wished it was not so far away. "What're ya waitin' fer?"

"Dunno," Anbagûrz said with a careless shrug, "ain't so bad though. Sorta a nice wait. Not a bad view, anyhow."

Rukhash sat next to him. Anbagûrz draped his thick arm over her naked shoulders, and she reveled in the heat radiating off of him. Settling herself against his side to make herself comfortable, she pulled his arm around her more tightly. "Am I waitin' wit' ya?" she asked, hopeful. She didn't want to leave this place. It was strange, but it put a gentle feeling in her.

" _Nar_ ," Anbagûrz rumbled. "Yuh ain't done."

Rukhash felt her chest tighten painfully, and she clutched Anbagûrz a little more fervently; afraid that he would suddenly vanish. "But I don't want ta go," she said, her voice trembling.

"Whut about yer man?" Anbagûrz asked. Rukhash startled. He did not  _sound_  angry, but there was a firm set to his broad, square jaw. "He's waitin' fer  _you_."

An image of Cadoc's face – bruised and broken and streaked with tears – flashed through her mind. He had fought so hard for her. How could she leave him alone after that?  _He must be so worried_ , she thought, sadly. An indescribable emptiness filled her, as if there was an important piece missing. She was suddenly assailed by a wave of guilt. How could she forget him so quickly? After all he had done for her? He had stood with her through her tantrums, and comforted her grief, and reminded her what it was to care again after her long years of weary solitude. She struggled with her feelings for him, but that did not make them any less  _there._  Here, she had found the family she had lost, but Rukhash could not help feeling as though something remained undone. She had never felt so torn in all her life.

"Won't ya be mad?" she asked Anbagûrz.

Anbagûrz looked down on her then, the star's light gleaming in his red irises. He lifted his large, dark hand to her face, cupping her cheek. "Can't be mad at my Rukhash," he said with a small, knowing smile. "Might as well enjoy 'im while yuh can. When he's done, yuh won't be able ta see 'im again, an' I'll still be 'ere. Then, we can wait together." Rukhash pressed her cheek into his palm, enjoying its familiar, rough texture.

A little cooing noise came from Anbagûrz's lap, and Rangmau stretched and yawned. She turned, her orange eyes droopy, and smiled sleepily at her mother. "Mum! Yuh come tuh wai' too?"

Rukhash cupped her daughter's face and felt hot tears on her own cheeks. "Not yet, mite," she said hoarsely, pulling her daughter into her arms. "Mum'll be back though. You be good fer yer old dad."

Rangmau yawned toothily. "Arright," she said, hugging her mother around the neck. Rukhash settled her daughter back onto Anbagûrz's lap, and Rangmau immediately curled up and went to sleep.

Rukhash stood. Wrapping her arms around Anbagûrz's thick neck, she pressed her brow to his. He leaned into her, and they stayed like that for many long minutes. It may have even been a lifetime; Rukhash wasn't sure. When she pulled away from him, he gave her one last smile before fixing his eyes on the distant horizon; his stare suddenly far away.

Rukhash turned towards the strange star, and realized it was getting larger. It grew until her whole body was surrounded by blinding whiteness. She was no longer standing on the dark shore next to Anbagûrz. The star had engulfed her completely, and she seemed to float limply, wrapped in a warm peace. Rukhash had never felt such peace in all her life – ageless and wise and gentle – and everywhere there was endless light. For a brief moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of completeness. She felt finished.

A quiet breath of wind tickled her ear.  _Not yet_ , it whispered.

* * *

The first thing she became aware of was the pain. Her gut hurt the worst, but the rest of her was no less sore, as though someone had wrung her like a wet towel. She opened her eyes slowly her dimly lit room in Edda's cottage. For what seemed like a small eternity, she stared dully at the lumpy texture of the faded, green, plaster walls.

She remembered a black shore and a strange star; talking to Anbagûrz, and holding her daughter; then there was... something more, but she couldn't recall it. Rukhash frowned.  _Queer fuckin' dream_ , she thought. Still, despite her physical pain, she felt a quiet peace settle on her; as though something in her had been set right.

She was half sitting up, propped by several, large pillows, and there was a light weight on her hand. Rukhash turned her head sluggishly and saw Cadoc's hand resting on hers. He was sleeping sitting up in a small, wooden chair; his chin resting on his chest. Though he bore a few shallow cuts on his brow and cheekbone, his face was not nearly as swollen as she remembered. It looked as though he had been healing for several days. Rukhash felt like she had only been sleeping for a few minutes.

She pulled her hand gently from his grasp. He jerked awake as she reached to touch his shoulder. "Oi," she whispered hoarsely.

A great wave of relief seemed to wash over his tired features, and Rukhash realized he had dark bags under his puffy, bloodshot eyes. Cadoc leaned out of the chair to kneel beside her bed. Grasping her hand in both of his, he pressed her fingers to his mouth. His eyes threatened tears, but his cheeks remained dry. Cadoc stared at her as though he could not believe he was seeing her.

"How do you feel?" he asked her, finally.

Rukhash smiled, and with a painful, breathy laugh said, "Like some arsehole tried ta make worm food a me." Cadoc laughed – a hoarse, rough sound – and broke. He tucked his forehead against her hand and sobbed for a long minute. Stiffening, Rukhash had no idea what to do. She was uncomfortable seeing him cry. Cadoc had always seemed so solid to her. Rukhash felt his tears against her skin, and wished she had the strength to pull him into her arms.

Slipping her hand out of his grasp, she rested her palm against his jaw and used her thumb to brush away his tears. Cadoc swallowed thickly and regained his composure, clutching her hand to his cheek. Rukhash regarded the hard lines of his face, his straight nose and pale skin and week-old beard. She smiled to herself, unsure how it could be possible for her to feel so much for someone so strange looking.

"I didn't mean ta make ya worry," she told him.

Cadoc shook his head. "I'm  _so_  sorry," he nearly wept. "I couldn't protect you."

Rukhash could feel the soft gauze around her middle. She had been cleaned and made as comfortable as was possible. He had stayed with her, she could tell that much by his weary appearance. "I think ya did a better job'n yer givin yerself credit fer," she said. "Ya can't fight the world fer me, Cadoc. I wouldn't ask ya ta try."

He said nothing to that, and Rukhash wished she knew what he was thinking. He looked so sad, and she hated seeing him like that. Cadoc sniffed, rallying a brighter expression. His watery, gray eyes were soft on her. "I love you," he said simply.

"I know," she returned, and the small smile on his face faltered. "Cadoc," she swallowed anxiously, unsure if she was ready to make this commitment, but wanting to make it anyway. She wanted to stay with him, but she had no idea where they would go where they could be safe. She couldn't imagine him among a tribe of orcs, and she couldn't stay around men. As much kindness as she had been shown, the attack on them proved that there would always be people seeking to destroy them. Still, she needed him to know that she cared about him; that she acknowledged his loyalty to her; and that she would likewise return his affection and devotion.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at him pointedly and hoped he understood what she was offering. "I'd call ya my  _shaûk_  if you'd have me as one, after all the rotten shit I put ya through."

Cadoc's brow furrowed. "I am still not completely sure what that is," he told her honestly.

"It means I'm with ya til the bitter end a it," she explained, unsure of how else to put it. "It means I won't leave ya. I'd kill fer ya and I'd die fer ya. 'At's what it means. You already treat me like a  _shaûk_  would, an' I'm sayin' I'll do the same; even though it scares the shit outta me. I wanna be wit' you, but I can't think of any fuckin' way we'll manage it."

Cadoc had gone silent, thoughtful. "I don't know if I can ask you to make that kind of commitment, Rukhash."

Huffing angrily, Rukhash couldn't help that she felt a little hurt. "It never goes halfway with my folk, Cadoc," she told him. "It's all or nothin'. I don't know shit about  _love_. All the loyalty and respect and soft feelings don't mean much to my folk. For my folk, it's every fucker for 'imself at some point, but not for  _shaûk._  If you're  _shaûk,_ it means you'd throw yerself in front of danger ta save them. You already done that fer me, an' I'm sayin' I'll do it fer you."

"Rukhash," Cadoc said seriously, "you owe me no debt."

"It ain't a debt!" she nearly shouted, feeling upset. "It's a promise. I'm making ya a  _promise_."

For Rukhash, her whole life had been about pecking order. This applied as much to personal relationships as it did to status within a group. For orcs, level of devotion fluctuated among kin and clan mates, depending how much you liked a brother or sister or parent; friendly acquaintances or orcs you knew casually might be greeted, but there was no true trust or loyalty there; and if you didn't know someone at all, they might as well be considered an enemy. This personal list of who garnered your favor varied from orc to orc, but  _shaûk_  was always at the top of it. To make that connection with another orc – to call someone your  _shaûk_ , your cherished companion – was not rare, but it was not common either, and it was something to be guarded fiercely. Fealty and affection were returned in kind. Rukhash still could not understand how Cadoc could love his former wife when her loyalties obviously remained elsewhere. Orcs were not nearly so selfless.

The fact that Cadoc had not answered her was beginning to make her angry. She offered him a lifetime of devotion. Shouldn't that count more than some paltry, transient  _feeling_? Rukhash pressed her hand to her middle as a sharp pain hit her and willed herself to calm down. She was asking something very large of him, and perhaps she had asked in error. "Never mind it," she said, deflated. "I been pretty shitty lately. I get why ya don't want that wit' me. Forget I said anythin'."

"Rukhash," Cadoc said quietly, taking her hand. "What you are asking of me sounds very much like marriage, and I am not sure  _I_  am ready for that commitment. I think, there is much we should discuss before entering into such an arrangement."

Rukhash had to concede to that logic, but she couldn't help feeling a little raw at his rejection. "I understand."

"I do not wish to fight with you so soon after you've woken," Cadoc said as he brushed the hair out of her eyes. "I am not telling you 'no'," he added, "just, 'not yet'. Rest, regain your health, and then perhaps we can speak on it further."

Rukhash bit her lip and nodded. She didn't want to fight either. He had been so good to her, and she felt as though she had no reason to complain. Cadoc was right, there were too many variables to worry about. He wasn't some lad in her tribe. The chasm that separated their people was vast, in more ways than one. If he had suddenly asked her to be his wife, she would have said no to him as well.

That didn't change how she felt. In her heart, they were already  _shaûk_.


	25. Consideration

**Chapter 25 Consideration**

* * *

Rukhash was the worst patient Cadoc had ever seen. Auron had explained that healers often pushed themselves harder towards recovery than even the most ardent warrior. He supposed it made sense, but Cadoc couldn't help feeling anxious when he saw her up and about, moving stiffly with her injury. More than once he had argued her to rest, and on one occasion he picked her up bodily to put her back in her sickbed. Still, her mending went apace, and within a week Auron allowed her out of bed to move about short distances. He left a day later with a stern warning to Rukhash. She waved him off as she drank his medicine along with her healing potion. Cadoc shook his head and sighed, both happy to see her back to her old self and exasperated with her stubbornness.

Rukhash did not bring up her offer to be his  _shaûk_  again. A selfish part of Cadoc was relieved by this, and another part of him was pained with the knowledge that he hurt her. Cadoc had never planned a future life for them. He assumed she would want to go back to her people. He loved her, and he wanted her happy, and if that meant letting her go, he was prepared to do that. Now, she offered to remain with him, and that was a far more complicated matter all together. It brought to light a myriad of challenges that Cadoc now had to consider.

Edda had taken to the knowledge that Cadoc and Rukhash were lovers fairly easily at first, but now she often spoke of her concerns on the matter, albeit in her own graceful, quiet manner. Hedon had cornered Cadoc a few days after Auron's departure, once Rukhash's recovery was certain, and revealed, in no uncertain terms, his disquiet with the situation.

"I cannot believe that you would do something so foolish," Hedon said.

Cadoc paused at the chopping block, his axe half buried in a log of wood. Wiping his forehead, Cadoc anxiously looked towards the front of the house. Rukhash should be sleeping, or at least resting on the couch, but she had a habit wandering further than Auron had advised. Cadoc knew that the words he would exchange with Hedon would not be pleasant, and he didn't want her overhearing them.

Sighing, Cadoc pulled the axe from the wood and stuck it into the soft earth. He moved the half split log and sat on the chopping block, Hedon leaned against the house, his hands crossed across his chest. "I can understand how you would think that," Cadoc told him. "I also appreciate you waiting to bring this up."

"How you can be so casual about this?" Hedon growled. "She is an  _orc_ , Cadoc. An orc. Not some exotic woman from the east or a girl from a primitive tribe of Dunlendings. I will admit she is tamer than most of her race, but that does not make her any less  _an orc_."

Cadoc grit his teeth and held his patience. " _She_  has a  _name_ , Hedon."

"An orc's name!" Hedon exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "You have known her for barely half a year and you are already willing to throw away your good name and your honor for some ghastly union with her. I cannot comprehend what you are thinking."

Cadoc never realized how much their secrecy had shielded him from facing the real and bitter truth that he loved an orc. When they were alone, Rukhash was Rukhash, but the knowledge of their relationship would be reviled, even by those that Cadoc considered close friends.

Swallowing thickly, Cadoc prepared himself for the agitation he knew this statement would produce in Hedon. "I love her," he said simply. "That is what I am thinking."

Hedon said nothing. He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, as if he hoped to banish this knowledge from his head forever. Running his hand anxiously through his dark hair, the young ranger sat, cross legged, on the cool grass in front of his friend and pinched the bridge of his nose with frustration. "I cannot even begin to understand that thought," Hedon told Cadoc tersely, truly disturbed.

Sighing, he regarded Cadoc with an almost forlorn expression. "You are one of my closest and oldest friends," Hedon admitted, "and many years my senior. I would not presume to tell you what to do with your life. I know your stubbornness would only rail against me. However, I would ask you to consider your choice in this matter very seriously. I would never turn my back on you, Cadoc, no matter how baffled I am by this... relationship, but others would seek your death if they knew. You would be considered immoral, and a traitor. What you two have done would be looked upon as evil."

"Is that what you think, Hedon?" Cadoc asked him quietly. "Do you believe that what I have done is evil?"

Hedon shook his head slowly, a bitter, half smile tugging at his lips. "I think it is very,  _very_  strange, and a little disturbing," he admitted. "It is not a choice I would make, or one I would think  _you_  would make, but no," Hedon smiled truly then, a sad, small smile. "I would not call it evil."

Rukhash's dark head peeked out from the porch. "Made lunch," she said hoarsely, "if ya want some."

A sick looked passed over Hedon's face and Cadoc scowled, annoyed to see her up and about when she should be recovering. "You should be resting," he admonished.

"Yea, Yea," Rukhash said, batting at the air dismissively. "I can't sit around all day doin' nothin'." The orcess scratched idly at her neck. Her hair was tied back, revealing a new, bright scar along her jaw where a blade had nicked her during the fight. "Made enough fer you too," she added, addressing Hedon.

Standing, Hedon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I really should get going," he said anxiously.

Rukhash's mouth drew into a thin, hard line, her eyes flashing. "Come an' eat some lunch," she ordered tightly before turning and going back inside.

"How much of our conversation did she hear?" Hedon whispered nervously as Cadoc passed him and started up the porch steps.

Smiling humorlessly, Cadoc shook his head. "I would assume she heard all of it. Orcs have very sharp ears."

Rukhash had pulled apart the chicken that Edda brought them for dinner the night before. There was still a good amount of meat left, and she had made three plates, two with cheese and bread and one with just meat. Cadoc smiled a little at that and went to sit by his lunch, taking the seat next to Rukhash's meal.

"Oi," Rukhash growled. "Been out there all mornin'. Don't know why yer yellin' at me when yer choppin' wood with all them bruises still about." Rukhash paused by the stove to stir a sharp smelling concoction. "You should wash up first," she told him with a poignant look. Cadoc glanced at Hedon, who looked as though he had no desire to be left alone with her. Still, Cadoc realized what she was doing. He smiled and nodded towards the orcess as he headed to his room where the washbasin sat on a small table. Cadoc politely closed the door behind him.

Hedon had never felt so abandoned in all his life. "What is that?" he asked, thrusting his chin towards the pot on the stove. He had no desire to have a conversation with Rukhash about her relationship with Cadoc. Hedon was fairly sure she could tell him nothing that would make him feel better about it. In fact, her coarse manner would most likely make him feel worse than he already did.

"Somethin' I wanted done before I left," she answered vaguely as she stirred the viscous, black fluid. Hedon had to admit, she looked much better than when he last saw her. She still wore a robe, but this one was smaller and more fitted. It was also much shorter, reaching just past her knees. Hedon had fought orcs that wore far less than what she was wearing now, but for some reason her lack of dress made him very uncomfortable. It seemed, somehow, indecent. As though he were looking at the legs of another man's wife.

Completely appalled by that thought, Hedon sat himself at the other end of the counter, as far away from Rukhash as possible, and stared daggers at the door to Cadoc's room, wondering what was taking the older man so long.

"You known Cadoc a long time, yea?" Rukhash asked. Hedon turned to face her back. Her attention was still on the stove. "You fought together, didn't ya?"

"In the War and after," Hedon admitted.

Rukhash turned towards him then, her yellow eyes solemn. "I don't know what that is fer men," she said, "but it's a big deal fer my folk.  _Skutklûk_ they'd call each other, or _Skutkranklûk_  if yer bein' formal 'bout it. It means 'shield brother', and most lads were closer wit' their brother in arms 'en their brother by blood, 'cause they been through so much shit together."

Hedon did not know what to say to that. It was a very manlike sentiment, and not one he would have expected of orcs. "The same can be said of men," he admitted. "I have no brothers, but Cadoc is very much like an older brother to me."

Rukhash laid her wooden spoon on a small dish and approached him seriously. "I don't wanna hurt yer brother, Hedon," she told him earnestly. "If he asked me, I'd slit my own throat fer him."

Hedon swallowed roughly. That was a very strange way to say that you loved someone. "I doubt he would ask you to do anything so drastic," Hedon told her. "I just hope you understand what he would have to give up for you. He could not remain with his people."

Rukhash's gaze lowered. "I ain't sure we could stay wit' mine," she whispered.

Hedon's brow furrowed, confused. "I have heard of men living among orcs. Did not the men of Dunland fight alongside your people?"

"Sure they did," Rukhash said with a breathy laugh, "but they didn't live with us. Just my grandad, an' I don't think he counts."

"Why not?" Hedon asked. He never knew that Rukhash's grandfather was a man.

"My folk  _hate_  yer folk," Rukhash said darkly. "It's how the Hand taught us and how the Eye wanted it, always. Our masters made us burn wit' hate fer men. Sure we fought with them Harad or the Easterlings, but they always kept themselves separate from us. The only men that I ever known ta live wit' orcs is the type that hate men as much as we do. More, even, cause that's their own kind."

Rukhash took a steadying breath. "My nan, she were real fond of my granddad, but she said she could never trust 'im. He were too shifty, an' he done things that scared 'er." Rukhash laughed mirthlessly. "Can you imagine that," she said eyeing Hedon, "big as you and just as broad and that skinny ol' git scared 'er ta death at times. He knew how to do stuff to them poor horse boys at no orc'd ever think a, cause we ain't men, an' we couldn't know the best way ta hurt ya. My granddad taught my older brothers things 'at no orc ever could."

Hedon's brow furrowed at that, and he wondered, briefly, what  _Rukhash_  had learned from her grandfather.

"Cadoc ain't like that, and I don't want 'im ta be like that," Rukhash admitted. "I wouldn't feel 'bout him the way I do if he were, an' I ain't the same girl I was when I come here. I don't think  _I_  can hate men as much as I did. I got ta knowin' ya too well. Can't say I really like livin' how ya do, but it ain't somethin worth hatin' over."

"I did not realize," Hedon said quietly, "that your time here had affected you so much."

"'Course it did," she said with a small, genuine smile. "Even with them bastards tryin' ta kill me, I still had folks on my side. Cadoc tol' me you were there wit' the rest of them what come ta help." Hedon nodded quietly, and Rukhash smiled more broadly, a little white fang peeking out from her lower lip. "An' here I always thought ya hated my guts."

"I do not  _hate_  you," Hedon told her with a deep sigh. "I, certainly, did not desire to see you dead; especially not at the hands of lawless ruffians. Though, I would not consider us friends. Acquaintances, perhaps, is a better word. "

"'At's fine by me," Rukhash laughed and picked at her lunch. "Always thought ya were a big, stupid ox, anyhow."

"So what will you do?" Hedon asked, concerned. "If you cannot live among your own people, and you could find no safe place among Cadoc's, where would you go?"

Rukhash worried her lip. "I ain't sure we're at that point," she admitted. "I'm still plannin' on goin' home, an' he still plans on leavin' me once I'm there. We ain't discussed anythin' more 'n that." Rukhash swallowed roughly. "I'd like ta stay with him," she said, her voice cracking. "I keep thinkin', now that the War's done wit', we might find some folk that met each other part way; orcs 'n men, I mean, but it sounds too wishful. Either way," Rukhash added, regarding Hedon seriously, "I don't ever mean ta teach my kids how I were taught. They might 'ave ta be careful around yer folk, but I won't teach 'em ta hate like my mum taught me. I couldn't do it, now. Whether or not their dad's an orc... or a man." Sniffing, Rukhash turned her attention to her pot on the stove.

Cadoc took that moment to appear from his room. He had changed into a loose white shirt and looked as though he washed. Though Hedon thought that Cadoc still took a good time about it, he was glad that he spoke with Rukhash. Hedon watched Cadoc approached the orcess and place his hands on her shoulders as she continued to stir. He kissed her dark head gently before sitting down to his lunch, and Hedon decided that the thought of them together was not nearly as ghastly as he imagined. He had only noticed the changes in Cadoc's demeanor. Hedon never realized how her relationship with Cadoc would affect Rukhash.

Cadoc began to eat his lunch in silence and Rukhash joined him, picking lightly at the meat on her plate. Hedon, suddenly, felt a pang of pity for the both of them. They faced two abysmal choices. They could either leave one another and abandon the love they had found together, or remain with each other and apart from the rest of the world. In truth, Hedon had never seen Cadoc care as deeply for someone as he cared for Rukhash. Cadoc's whole life had been the road and the wilderness and his duty to king and country. Even marriage had done little to change him in that regard. The fact that he would even consider abandoning that life spoke volumes to his feelings for the orcess. Hedon could not claim to know Rukhash well, but if Cadoc had changed her heart so fundamentally, if she would now consider leaving her own kind behind to remain with him, that was no less a sacrifice.

Hedon sighed to himself and ate his own lunch quietly. He wanted to wish them both happiness, but that did not appear to be a likely end.

* * *

Cadoc ran his palm along Rukhash's bare hip, admiring the leather soft texture of her dark skin, marred occasionally by a rough or raised scar. Rukhash growled low in her throat and pressed her hips against his comfortably. Cadoc had made double sure to lock the door this evening. They would be leaving in a few days, and Rukhash had suggested, not too subtly, that she wanted to enjoy their last few nights in the safe privacy of the cottage. Her wound was healed completely now, an amazing recovery over the past week. Cadoc had endured her healing medicine himself, despising the taste, but he could not deny its very real benefits. She mended in less than half the time she should have.

Feeling mostly sated, since they had just rolled off of each other a few moments prior, Cadoc contented himself with idly caressing her. Her eyes were half lidded and dark in the gloom of his room. The small fire in the hearth flickered red against her sweat damp skin. There was a pleased little smile on her face as she enjoyed his light touch. Cadoc would miss this the most; not the physical aspect of their relationship, but the quiet, peaceful time afterwards when the world seemed miles away and it was just the two of them. He could not imagine what it would be like to leave her, the aching loss it would be in his heart.

"What would we do," Cadoc asked her quietly, "if I stayed with you?"

Rukhash's eyes opened at that, and she regarded him seriously, a concerned expression on her face. "I ain't sure," she admitted. "Maybe we might find a group a my folk that were livin' real peaceful like, but I ain't sure how you'd like it, even if they weren't in the mind ta kill ya on sight."

Cadoc frowned and cupped her cheek. "You have managed well enough among my people," he told her. "I am willing to try to live among yours if they would accept us, and we would be safe with them."

Rukhash snickered quietly, an amused glint in her eye. "Yer so prim an' proper 'bout things," she giggled and pulled him closer. "I think the first girl what walked by ya with her tits hangin' out would near give ya a heart attack."

A troubled line appeared on Cadoc's brow. "Are all orcs so open about such things?" he asked.

"I ain't met an orc what weren't," Rukhash snorted. "That sort a thing ain't a big deal to my folk. A lad'll mount a girl right in the main den if 'e has a mind fer it, an' no one'll really give a care, though ya might get a few cheers if folks feel like bein' rowdy."

Cadoc blinked a little at that. He wondered if he could endure such a flagrant breech of propriety. He supposed it would be no different that observing wild animals mating. Still, knowing Rukhash as he did, he wasn't sure if he could regard an orc in the same way he would an animal. "Would it be rude if I removed myself from such a situation?" he asked, curious. He wondered what sort of decorum would be appropriate, or if orcs had a set of unspoken rules when it came to such things.

Rukhash pursed her lips thoughtful. "Well," she said at length, "if you just up an' left in a huff folks'd think you were bein' prissy 'bout it. I mean, they'd probably give ya a hard time anyhow, but if they really knew it bothered ya, they'd probably do it twice as much in front a ya just ta get a rise outta you."

"You are saying they would tease me," Cadoc frowned.

"They'd tease ya anyhow," Rukhash told him seriously. "That's normal fer orcs. If they're just teasin' ya, then they like ya. If they're bein' nasty 'bout it, then ya got a fight on yer hands. There's a difference between givin' ya a hard time an' meanin' ya harm."

Cadoc felt he could endure a little good natured ribbing. Certainly, Rukhash enjoyed teasing him about his propriety. She had, on more than one occasion, told him that she liked to make his face red. "Well," Cadoc said with a small smile, "I suppose, if you can become accustomed to dresses and etiquette, then I can become accustomed to a... looser form of conduct."

"That's if yer not shot on sight," Rukhash replied soberly.

Cadoc nodded quietly. "I would still like to try," Cadoc said as he ran his knuckles along her throat. "Perhaps we will be lucky and find a tribe of orcs that is amiable, or a village of men in Nûrn that will not think unkindly of our relationship."

"Maybe," she said with a small smile. "What if we don't?"

"Have you changed your mind," Cadoc whispered uneasily. Rukhash shook her head adamantly, and Cadoc smiled at her. "Well," he said, pulling her closer and pressing his lips to her collar, "Maybe we could start our own tribe."

Rukhash pulled away from him, her eyes shining as she stared at him, moved by his words. "You mean that?" she said in a breathy whisper. "You'd want ta be my mate?"

"I know we have not discussed this at length," he told her quietly. "I have debated this within myself for the past few weeks, because I wanted to be sure before I suggested such a thing. I would be honored to be the father of you children, if you would have me as such. I would prefer if we waited until we found some place to settle, but I want to stay with you. I would call you my wife or  _shaûk_ , if you prefer that title."

Rukhash embraced him fiercely. "Yer sure?" she asked him, amazed that he would agree to such a thing. "Cadoc, it'll be hard, an' our kids, they'd be half..."

"I know," Cadoc held her a little tighter. "I have thought of this already, but I cannot go back to a life of fighting your people, not after knowing you, and the thought of leaving you pains me. Besides," Cadoc added with a soft smile as he brushed his thumb along the watery rim of her eyes, "I think we would make lovely children."

A sad look crossed Rukhash's features. "What about yer sis an' yer mum and yer friends  _here_?" she asked, worried that he might somehow retract this offer. To have him agree to be her  _shaûk_  and then change his mind because he missed his family would be devastating.

"I have already spoken to Edda on this," Cadoc told her. "There are posts in Ithilien and South Gondor, not far from the boarder of Mordor, that I can send word from, and if we are settled in Nûrn, there are outposts in Lithlad to protect the people there. I would miss my sister, but I will find a way to keep in touch with her."

"You really thought this out," Rukhash said with a smile, then frowned. "What do ya mean the people there? You mentioned villages a men, but there ain't no men in Nûrn."

Cadoc was not sure how to tell her this. It seemed like a great injustice, what was done, now that he thought about it. "King Elessar gave the land north of the sea to the slaves of Barad dûr," he told her, and watched her face fall in despair. "There are outposts of Gondor soldiers to safeguard them from your people, and also bands of outlaws who would cause them trouble."

"What about the lands south a Mordor," Rukhash said quietly, terrified to know the answer. "South a Ithilien, beyond the river. That were mostly empty. I know some a my folk come from there. They served in Lugbúrz wit' the rest of us, but their homes were south a Duath."

Cadoc swallowed anxiously, but he would not hide the truth from her. "There were great campaigns after the war to clear that territory. It is still quite wild in some places, but mostly settled now. They are not large villages, but there is law there."

A frantic look was on her now. "Well," she said tightly, "what about the marshes, an the land north and east a the big river? There were lots a clans from there." Cadoc shook his head quietly, unsure of what to tell her. Rukhash was sitting up now, slightly panicked. "What about Gorgoroth? There were thousands a troops an' war camps there; hundreds a thousands. Whole tribes come from the far east ta fight."

"The eruption of Mount Doom destroyed those plains," Cadoc told her. "Nothing lived there for many years. It is only recently that life has returned, and I am not sure if there are many orcs in that area."

Rukhash's eyes darted around uneasily. A part of her had known, somehow, that there were far fewer of her people than there once was. The fact that she had come across only a small tribe of reclusive goblins in her years alone was evidence enough of that. When she escaped Isengard with her brother, they had met with many bands of both marauders and refugees heading towards Mordor. Though, to know so assuredly what Cadoc's people had done, that they had cut down her kind without mercy, that her folk were relegated to those parts of the world men had not yet decided to inhabit, it was a bitter taste in her mouth.

Orcs were not in the habit of feeling deep attachment to people they didn't know, not even other orcs. That did not make the knowledge that her race was nearly eradicated easier to bear. The death of an orc she had no attachment to may not wound her personally, but it made everything that much harder. Where could she possibly go now? Even without Cadoc at her side, she would still be in constant danger.

Cadoc was sitting up now, troubled that she could not meet his gaze. If he could take back his part in what was done, he would. "Rukhash, " Cadoc said gently, laying a hand on her shoulder, "there is still the land south of the Nûrn sea, and the forests and mountains of Duath and the Mountains of Shadow that remained untouched. I have even heard that uruks come down from the Mithram Spur and Ash Mountains to cause trouble, so tribes must hail from there as well."

Rukhash regarded Cadoc for a long moment. A part of her wanted to ask what part he played in this slaughter, but she immediately thought better of it. She knew from the moment that she met him that he was an enemy to her people, and in fairness, Rukhash had killed her share of men, some in terrible ways, and she was not even a warrior. The past was the past, and she could no more rescind her actions than he could.

"I don't think it's gonna be easy," she said with a bitter smile, "findin' a tribe that'll let ya in."

Cadoc embraced her and rested his cheek against her hair. "It is your choice," he told her, "if you wish to stay with me or not. I will understand if you do not wish to remain with me."

Pressing herself more closely to him, she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. She would never leave him. He was her  _shaûk_ , the companion of her heart, where he went, she would go too. "You ain't gettin' rid a me that easy," she said with a smirk. "I'm stuck on ya."

Cadoc kissed the sensitive juncture of her neck. "I am glad for that," he said.

 


	26. Gotlum

 

**Chapter 26 Gotlum**

* * *

Cadoc glanced over at Rukhash as she kept pace with him, jogging steadily beside his horse as it trotted briskly over the dirt road that lead to Ingrid and Baladnor's home. She had dressed in her orcish attire. Her lightweight tunics were layered over each other, bound at her waist by a thick leather belt. Her sword and bow were left behind, though Cadoc did see her stick her curved knife into her boot before they left. She had assured him that she didn't intend to use it, that she carried it only out of old habit. "Boot don't fit right without it," she had said.

Rukhash had made a very odd request of him that Cadoc found he could not deny her. She wanted to see Baladnor before they started on their journey tomorrow. She did not tell him specifically why. Halbard had informed Cadoc, who in turn informed Rukhash, of Baladnor's part in saving her life. She had taken that information in quietly as she sat in her sickbed, her brow knotting thoughtfully. Rukhash did not mention Baladnor again until yesterday, when she asked Cadoc to accompany her to the orc hunter's house. "Just want ta talk with 'im," she said seriously. "Don't plan on makin' any trouble." Cadoc had believed her sincerity then, and he believed it now, even if her expression had been stony all morning.

Cadoc had not returned to the house he once shared with Ingrid since their divorce six years ago. Its condition was fair enough, even if the weeds had grown up considerably about the stony edge of the foundations. Cadoc slowed his horse as the approached, raising his hand to greet Edraithur who stood at the door. Cadoc smiled to himself at the sight of the young, light haired man. Halbard certainly had the poor boy making the rounds lately.

Edraithur's eyes darted from Cadoc as he dismounted from his horse to Rukhash as she slowed to a stroll, wiping the sweat from her brow, and the ranger thought he saw a moment of exasperation pass across the young guard's handsome features. "I must ask you what your presence here is about," Edraithur addressed them, and Cadoc was both amused and surprised to see the boy's hand go to the hilt of his sword.

Sighing, Rukhash raised her palms amiably. "And here, I'd been missing you all this time," she told the guard with a smirk. Edraithur blanched a little at that, and Cadoc caught his cheek in his teeth to keep from laughing. "I ain't here ta cause no harm," she assured the young guard as she lowered her hands to her sides. "I heard the bastard warned Halbard on my behalf," the orcess explained. "Just want a few friendly words wit' 'im. It's why I brought Cadoc with me," she added, nodding towards the ranger. "He won't let me do nothin' stupid, don't ya think?"

Edraithur seemed unsure, though his hand lowered from the hilt of his sword. Cadoc stepped forward. "I assure you," Cadoc said, "Rukhash just wants to speak with Baladnor, nothing more. You may accompany us inside if you like."

"I planned on doing that," Edraithur said, his mouth firming determinedly. "All right," he agreed, "let me go inside first. He may not want to see you, and if that is the case, I will ask you to leave quietly."

Rukhash nodded, and Edraithur entered the small house. She stood next to Cadoc and waited patiently, crossing her bare arms over her chest and closing her eyes in thought. She had worn her  _vrasgirdan_ under her tunic. The long bear claw hung heavy at the center, its sharp tip resting lightly between her breasts, flanked by the rough texture of Rangmau's bird claws. There was a loud, inarticulate, female exclamation from inside, and Rukhash wondered if she had come here for nothing. Several minutes passed before Edraithur exited the house. Much to Rukhash's surprise, his motioned her and Cadoc inside.

Cadoc was surprised to see that the interior of his former home had changed very little. Ingrid had replaced the curtains and added a new vase of cut flowers to the windowsill, the wood countertop and table were a bit more worn, but aside from those small differences, the kitchen was very much the same as he left it all those years ago. Cadoc suppressed the pang of melancholy that threatened to overwhelm him, and focused on Rukhash as she stood across from Baladnor.

Ingrid and her husband were grim faced, standing at one end of the long, oak table. Ingrid looked particularly incensed, the corners of her eyes glaring with angry pinpricks. Cadoc wondered at Baladnor's expression. There was a stern curiosity in the way he looked at Rukhash. The orcess nodded to them both awkwardly as she worried her lip.

"You mind if I sit?" she asked, nodding to the chair nearest to her, on the opposite end of the table from Baladnor. "Jogged the whole way here. Wouldn't mind takin' a load off."

"Say what you need to say and  _leave_ ," Ingrid hissed angrily, her green eyes flashing.

Baladnor did not seem to share her rage. He held his hand up placatingly to his wife, nodding at her briefly. "Peace, Ingrid," he said quietly before turning towards Rukhash. "Sit," he said, gesturing towards the chair across from him. "I will here what you have to say."

Baladnor watched as the orc sat quietly, and followed suit, intensely aware of the audience around them, and yet, he felt as though they were the only people in this room. When the guard had told him of the orc's presence at his doorstep, Baladnor's initial response had been fear, but as the guard explained her reason for being here, he found curiosity take its place. The last time he had seen her, Baladnor had brought a rage upon the orcess. Now, she sat with an eerie calm across from him, her head tilted slightly as she regarded him silently. She wore the sparse, plain clothing of her own people, looking more like the orcs he battled than when he had visited her in the prison. Despite this, Baladnor found himself oddly at ease, more so than when a row of bars stood between them and she dressed as a woman might.

"Heard you went to warn folks, when yer friends asked ya to join them in killin' me," she said bluntly, her voice gentle despite her gravely, flat accent. "I wanna know why ya done it, when you got a better reason 'en most ta see me dead."

It was a fair enough question. Baladnor folded his aching hands in front of him, wondering how he should answer it. He had helped to slay her family, and she had done him injury in return. There was a brutal fairness in his situation, that the pain he must have caused her would be paid to him in kind. "It was the right thing to do," he told her finally, meeting her gaze proudly.

The orcess released a long, slow breath through her nose, pinning her ears back, and narrowed her slanted, yellow eyes. "Even after I hurt ya like I did? After crippilin' ya? You ain't raw 'bout that?"

"I am not content with my situation, if that is what you're asking," Baladnor told her honestly, "but I have done you equal injury. I would call us even, in that regard." Baladnor ignored the angry little growl Ingrid made in the back of her throat. He imagined she did not consider their situations as even, but she did not see the pile of children in the orc den. She was not responsible for slaying the she orc's mate.

The orcess huffed, looking away from him to Cadoc at her side, and then Ingrid. Closing her eyes with an expression of resignation, she reached into the worn leather pouch clipped to her belt and pulled out a tall, glass vial filled with a black liquid. The viscous fluid barely rippled as the orcess placed the vial on the table, an arm's length away from him.

Baladnor's brows furrowed as he glanced from the vial to the orcess sitting across from him. "What is this?"

A creeping, knowing smile lifted at the corners of the orc's mouth. "How's that pain a yers?" she asked darkly. "Ain't you never wondered why it won't go away? Why it's harder an' harder to walk an' move yer joints?"

Frowning, Baladnor sat up stiffly, pressing his hand to the hard wound at his belly. "I had an infection..."

"I ain't never heard a no infection what caused that," the orcess said derisively. "I ain't never heard of no infection gettin'  _worse_  after it were gone." The orcess folded her hands under her chin. "I ain't never heard a no infection what made it hard to make a fist, or made the pain linger on and on, or made it so ya couldn't lay wit' yer woman. You ever heard of an infection what done that?"

Baladnor felt his face go red. His inability to become aroused was something only he, Ingrid and Auron knew about. Baladnor had always associated it with his chronic pain. "What is causing this, then, if not the infection I suffered after my injury?" he asked suspiciously, knowing that this she orc had the answer.

The orc smiled at him with the indulgent humor one might have towards a child that said something foolish. "I know my own work," she said with cold amusement. "I were the one what poisoned that blade that stuck ya. It's real nasty stuff, orc poison. It don't come ta get ya quick like. That shit waits on ya, creepin', 'til ya ain't nothin' but a half dead sack droolin' on yerself, wishin' ya had died in battle instead a livin' on in agony."

There was a horrified hush on the room. Baladnor could feel the rage emanating from Ingrid. Even Cadoc looked at the she orc, appalled; as if he could not believe what she just said. The orcess's black mirth evaporated, and she pointed at the small vial on the table, her expression suddenly soft. "That," she said gently, "is the fix fer it. That'll undo what the poison's doin' to ya now. It won't fix whatever the blade done to yer gut, but yer pain'll go away, it won't hurt ya ta walk no more, an' yer joints'll work like they're supposed ta." The orc raised her brow suggestively. "All yer joints, that is."

Baladnor plucked the vial from the table, examining its dark contents. "You knew what was happening to me," he said, glancing up at her with a humorless smile. If he were a more malicious person, he might appreciate the calculated cruelty of what she intended to do. "That is why you have not come to seek your revenge since your release."

Snuffing, the orcess crossed her arms and sat back in the chair, eyeing him appraisingly. "It ain't a proper vengeance, far as my folk is concerned," she said dismissively. "You and I would have ta spend a good long while alone fer that, but it made leavin' easier ta bear."

"You are giving this to me because I helped you?" Baladnor asked.

The she orc shook her head slowly. " _Nar_ ," she said quietly. "I ain't in the habit a repaying someone what owes me already." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she stared at him pointedly. "I ain't sayin' there's no hard feelins," she told him. "Believe me when I tell ya I got  _plenty_  a hard feelins fer you, but I'm tryin' ta work past that shit now. I'm tryin' real fuckin' hard ta look forward, an' this seems like a good a way as any ta start."

The orcess rose from the chair quietly, giving a stunned Cadoc an apologetic look as she turned to leave. Ingrid surged forward angrily. "How do we know this is really a cure?" she challenged furiously. "How do we know that this isn't more  _poison_?"

Rukhash paused at the threshold and turned. Her eye had an amused glint as she grinned at Ingrid cooly. "Ma'am, if I wanted ta kill yer husband, I wouldn't a come knockin' on yer front door in the middle a the afternoon. Sides," she added conversationally, gesturing towards Cadoc and Edraithur, "you got all these witnesses now what seen me give that to 'im. If 'e takes it an' he dies, then I'm sure I'll be in a heap a trouble fer it. Take it or don't," she told Baladnor, "it's up ta you. If ya  _do_  take it, eat somethin' first. It'll probably give ya hell while it works anyhow, but you'll be better fer it if there's food in ya." With that last bit of advice, Rukhash turned and left, vanishing into the bright light of the afternoon.

Cadoc stood, speechless for a long while, staring at the vial in Baladnor's hand. With a weak smile towards his former wife, he shrugged helplessly. "It was good to see you again, Ingrid," he said lamely, and hurried after the orcess.

Edraithur rubbed his neck, also at a loss for words. "I'll be outside if you need me," he told the couple finally.

Sighing, Baladnor looked to his wife. Her lovely face was marred by a worried frown. Reaching out to grasp her slender hand in his, he smiled warmly at her. "Why don't you fix us some lunch," he said at length.

* * *

Cadoc led his horse by the reins. He and Rukhash walked for a long time in silence. The day was pleasantly warm and sunny, and Cadoc really didn't mind walking. After what just transpired, he didn't think that Rukhash would be in the mood to run anyhow. She seemed thoughtful, and Cadoc was just as thoughtful as he followed behind her, his gaze on her dark head as the trees cast dappled shadows on them both.

The knowledge of what she had intended to do, to leave Baladnor to a pitiful fate, was a horrifying thought, and yet, he was proud of her. She could have never told a soul about the poison and the orc hunter would have died miserably, her family avenged. Instead, she offered him a cure. Cadoc would not call what she did gracious. Sentencing a man to a vile death was a terrible punishment, no matter how deserving Baladnor might have been of such an end in her mind. What Rukhash did was show him mercy. Cadoc was proud of her for doing the right thing, no matter how much she may have wished to do otherwise.

"It was a good thing that you did today," he told her gently.

Rukhash tilted her head towards him, and slowed her pace a little to walk alongside him. She narrowed her eyes as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Yea, yea," she said dismissively. "don't remind me. I'm startin' ta regret it already."

Cadoc smiled at her grousing. "There is great healing in forgiveness," he said, "for both of you, I think."

She snorted rudely, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Just don't go tellin folks," she grumbled half heartedly, "orcs ain't known fer forgiveness. You'll ruin my fine reputation."

Cadoc chuckled at that. "I shan't tell a soul," he said obligingly, laying his hand on his breast and bowing towards her gallantly.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes with a begrudging grin, amused. "I think yer a bad influence on me," she told him with a sigh, staring up thoughtfully at the leafy canopy above them. "I don't think I like 'at yer makin' me a better person."

Cadoc smiled at her profile, touched. Despite her half hearted sarcasm, it felt that there was an admission in her statement. "I think you were a better person than you think," he whispered, a note of soft affection in his voice.

Rukhash's head was back as she watched the lazy branches swaying above them, but her gaze slid sideways towards him, a small smile on her lips. "Sometimes I think you only wanna see the best in me," she told him quietly. "There's a lotta bad parts too, Cadoc."

Cadoc's arm went around her shoulders, and he pulled her towards him gently, pressing his lips to her hair. "There are bad parts in all of us," he whispered. "There is wickedness and goodness in all people, it is up to  _you_  to decide which of those natures you wish to indulge."

Rukhash leaned into him, wrapping her arm around his waist. "You make me wanna indulge them better parts," she admitted quietly.

"It is only fair," Cadoc said playfully, feeling as though he would lighten the mood. He pulled his arm from her shoulder and reached down to caress her rear and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You make me want to indulge some of my wickeder instincts," he told her huskily.

Rukhash gasped her eyes wide with mock indignation and pulled away from him, covering her own behind protectively. A slightly amazed look was on her face as she smiled at him. "You randy bugger!" she growled, impressed and amused by his stiff attempt at being crass. "Gotta be careful, Cadoc, wit' how ya tease an orc. We bite." Rukhash grinned then, her bright, sharp teeth flashing against her dark skin.

Cadoc laughed, blushing at his own forwardness, and rubbed his red neck with a small smile. "I do not mind the risk," he told her lightly. "I find it well worth the trouble."

Rukhash's expression gentled, and she wrapped her arm around his waist again, leaning against his solid frame as he put his arm back around her shoulder. The rest of their trip home was spent in comfortable silence.

* * *

Baladnor stared over his half eaten lunch at the glass of whiskey Ingrid had poured him, then his gaze settled on the vial of black liquid the orcess had left him, now sitting at the top right of his plate. His eyes rose to Ingrid, sitting across the table from him. Her fork was paused midair as she regarded him with a worried frown, a thin line etched across her brow. Baladnor fingered the smooth surface of the whiskey glass idly. He was sick of it. Sick of his pain, sick of the pain he caused Ingrid. Even if that small vial contained poison instead of an antidote, Ingrid would still be free of the wreck he had become. He could not condemn her to spend her life taking care of him. She was still young enough for children, still fair enough to find another husband to replace him.

Plucking the vial from the table, Baladnor undid the small cork. He heard Ingrid drop her fork suddenly, and she was standing, a horrified look on her face. "Baladnor..." she whispered anxiously, unable to take her gaze off of him.

He smiled sadly at her. "Whether poison or antidote," he said softly, "it would still be a cure." Ingrid pressed her fist to her mouth, a sick expression on her face, as he downed the dark liquid in one go. Grimacing at the foul taste, Baladnor swallowed thickly. He rested the vial on the table with a deep breath. "Cold you get me a glass of water?" he asked his wife hoarsely.

Ingrid fetched him a glass of water, and then another, and another. Baladnor had never been so thirsty in all of his life. Ingrid hurried outside to refill their water pitcher and returned to find her husband limping to their bedroom, sweating profusely as he stripped off his shirt. Terrified, she hurried after him, and handed him another glass which he downed before laying on the bed, his hand clutching at his middle. His face had twisted up into a mask of pain as he gasped for air.

"Baladnor," Ingrid nearly wept, feeling deceived and angry that Cadoc would bring that creature here to pour false hope into her husband only to kill him. "I will fetch the guard," she said frantically. "He can summon Auron."

Baladnor's hand shot out to grab her writs. "No," he rasped. "Stay with me."

Unable to hold back her tears, Ingrid stayed as he writhed in bed, moaning. Over an hour had passed since he took the orc's medicine. Ingrid refilled his water and mopped at his brow, but he refused to allow her to fetch the guard just outside. "Baladnor," she wept onto his clenched fist as he panted hoarsely, "it is killing you! Please, let me go for help."

His eyes were wild with agonized fear, and he nodded tersely. Ingrid rushed to the door and begged the young guard stationed there to fetch Auron and Halbard. "He is dying," she told him, and Edraithur mounted up immediately and headed for town.

Ingrid was back at his side within the span of a breath. Now Baladnor shivered as if freezing. Ingrid pulled the quilts up over him. His wound had, somehow, become blacker. Small dark tendrils snaked out from the edges and Ingrid's breath caught in a pained sob. Her husband was barely conscious now, shaking uncontrollably, and Ingrid waited at his bedside, twisting her skirts with white knuckles as she waited for the healer to come.

"I will see that she pays for this," Ingrid swore to Baladnor's slack face. He had gone still suddenly, and she was terrified to check him and discover the worst. "And Cadoc as well, for bringing that monster into our lives."

His hair was soaking wet and his skin deathly pale by the time Auron hurried in, Halbard at his heels. The magistrate looked grimly at Baladnor lying still as a grave in bed, and Auron rushed to the man's side, opening his medicine bag.

Jumping up, Ingrid rushed to the magistrate, furious anger in her eyes. "Do you see what your mercy has done!" Ingrid screeched at Halbard, tears streaming down her face. "You have killed my husband with it."

"Ingrid," Auron called from the bedside. "You must see this."

Swallowing roughly, Ingrid turned and went to her husband. Auron had pulled back the quilts, revealing Baladnor's wound. It was completely pink, not a stitch of black around it, and the skin was soft as new flesh. Baladnor was soaking wet, as if a high fever had broke on him, but his breathing was suddenly measured and slow.

In the span of a heartbeat, Baladnor shot up with a hoarse shout and Ingrid, Auron and Halbard jumped back in alarm. The orc hunter's wide, blue eyes darted around erratically. Ingrid's hand was clutched at her chest, her whole body wound with anxiety. "Baladnor?" she whispered nervously.

His gaze settled on her then, and he smiled broadly at her. "It's gone," he said, and turned to Auron, clutching the physician's shoulder. "It's gone," he laughed, practically giddy. Baladnor jumped from bed with more spryness than Ingrid had seen in years. He embraced her fiercely, and her eyes bounced anxiously from Halbard to Auron, unsure of what just occurred.

"I take it you are feeling well," Halbard said with a steadying breath.

"Yes," Baladnor said, releasing Ingrid enough so she could stand back from him. "Incredibly so," he took Ingrid's slack jawed face in his hands and kissed his wife with more passion than he had ever felt. Ingrid  _mphed_  in surprise.

"I will assume you do not need my services, then," Auron said with a barely suppressed smile.

Releasing his wife, Baladnor reached for Auron's hand. "I appreciate you coming," he said apologetically. "It would seem that this cure was not without some side effects."

"I don't suppose you saved the bottle?" Auron asked hopefully, curious about this orc poison antidote.

Baladnor showed the magistrate and the physician to the door, handing Auron the drained bottle. A small amount of liquid remained at the bottom, and the old healer held the glass up to the light of the late afternoon, examining it as he left. Halbard gave Baladnor a knowing nod, and bid the orc hunter and his wife farewell. Edraithur stood outside looking in, baffled by Baladnor's sudden, miraculous recovery.

Once they were alone, Ingrid regarded her husband warily. "You are well?" she asked, unsure.

"Yes," he assured her as he embraced her. "Completely well, look," Baladnor held his hand before her face, clenching and unclenching his fist with ease. "The pain is gone Ingrid," he was smiling but his face was wet with tears. "Whatever that potion was, it worked."

Ingrid was crying with relief. "In such a dreadful way!" she croaked, clutching him tightly.

"Perhaps that was her last act of vengeance," Baladnor murmured into Ingrid's bright hair. "I will take it, if it will give me back my life," lifting her chin, Baladnor met her shining green eyes, "if it will give us back  _our_  life." His mouth was on hers then, and Ingrid barely had a moment to register the passion in him before he lifted her into his arms and carried her towards their bedroom, intent on making up for lost time.

* * *

**Gotlum:**   _forgiveness_


	27. Memories

**Splint**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Memories**

_**AN:** _ _If you are interested in a bit of Splint prequel, The Black Heart features the story of Rukhash's grandparents, though that tale is much darker, and also not finished yet. So, fair warning._

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time they returned. Sun streamed lazily in through the windows, catching bits of dancing dust in beams of light. Cadoc had been waylaid by his mother upon their return, and Rukhash found the cottage oddly empty and soulless without his company. Guthwen called her son to her side with a serious expression, and Cadoc had followed her grimly into the house. Whatever conversation would pass between them, Rukhash was glad to be absent for it. Edda knew of Cadoc's decision to stay with her beyond seeing her home, and Rukhash could only assume that Guthwen was aware of his choice as well. No doubt, she would try to dissuade him, but Rukhash found she was not concerned. Cadoc had ever been steadfast in his support of her, and while Rukhash could understand Guthwen's fear for her eldest, the orcess was not nearly selfless enough to suggest that he leave her, not after he had sworn to be her  _shaûk_. She would protect him as he had protected her, and they would build a life together. A swell of happiness stirred in her at that thought.

Rukhash padded quietly to her room. Her rucksack was propped in the corner. She had already packed her things. Rukhash used what remained of her supplies to make a skin's worth of salve. The few herbs and powders that remained were carefully tied up in small, leather pouches and tucked away in a large wooden box with a sliding lid that Edda had given her. It once held one of Morwen's dolls. The girl had a remarkable collection in her room, all stacked against the corner like a monument to her childhood. It had struck Rukhash as odd that Edda kept so many things that were old and unneeded, but really, Rukhash was prone to the same habit. There was always more than one use for a thing, and the orcess found she could repurpose almost any item. Rukhash eventually realized, as Cadoc's sister handed her the wooden box dug out of the basement, that Edda was no different. She simply had more things to begin with.

Though Edda had offered for Rukhash to take her whole store of old dresses, Rukhash had settled on two. The blue dress, because Cadoc liked it so much, and a drab, green dress, which acted as a separator between her clothes, herbs and few personal affects and the dried meat and traveling tack stacked on top. The salve skin she marked with a circle and another skin, filled with a thick liquid soap, she marked with three wavy lines, so she could differentiate them from the water skin. Rukhash would be able to smell the difference in the contents, but Cadoc wouldn't, and he would be very ill if he swallowed black salve by mistake. She had tied the three bladders to the outside of her rucksack, worried they may leak on everything. Rukhash poked at them idly with the toe of her boot. The soap skin made an odd, squishing sound as it lurched forward and back, resettling against her pack.

On the dresser, her weapons were piled neatly. Rukhash had already taken stock of her arrows, carefully sorting out the bent or broken shafts and replacing them. She had a full quiver now, her used and reused arrow heads were joined by over a dozen new ones, provided, surprisingly enough, by Hedon.

"Think of it as a wedding gift," he had told her in his serious, grim faced way, his discomfort with this statement obvious, even as she recognized the resignation in his voice. She had overheard Cadoc tell Hedon a day prior of his decision to stay with Rukhash in a permanent manner. Hedon had replied to this information with silence, and she assumed he would cease speaking to her permanently, or at least until she left. Rukhash had thanked him as she took the arrows from him, surprised by such a thoughtful gesture. Weapons were a common gift to welcome a new orc into a family, and though Rukhash knew Hedon could not possibly know this custom, she was touched anyway. He and Cadoc were shield brothers, after all.

Rukhash removed her  _vrasgirdan_ from her neck and smoothed it against the polished, dark wood of the dresser. She touched the bear claw and bird talons thoughtfully, her thoughts turning to her deceased kin and the man that slew them. There was a thread of regret in not taking out her vengeance on Baladnor, but there was also a quiet sense of rightness. Rukhash found she could look upon the remnants of her daughter's first kill and her former  _shaûk_ 's meaningful gift with fond memory and not crushing regret. There was still a sadness in her at their absence, Rukhash imagined that would never leave her, but there was a sense of hope also, and a sense of peace. Rukhash felt as though she had finally laid them to rest. After so many years of clinging desperately to their memory, it felt as though the painful weight of her grief and guilt had been lifted. She was not sure if offering Baladnor the cure for his poising had done this, if it was Cadoc's presence that drove away the angry ghost of her remorse, or if it was something in herself that had managed to let them go, but she was glad for it in any case. Rukhash gazed down at the memories strung on her  _vrasgirdan_  and felt ready to look forward.

Her eyes settled on an old, gnarled rat skull and Rukhash smiled to herself. Her trophy necklace contained more than her daughter's triumphs and the more impressive kills she had made over the years. The rat skull was her first trophy, the third kill she had ever made, when she was still a wee sprog. Though Isengard lacked the varied wildlife her daughter had been lucky enough to grow up around, there were certainly plenty of rats roaming the winding tunnels. The first two she had caught, both in the span of several minutes, were presented to her parents, one to her mother and father each. Rukhash could still remember her mother's pleased expression as she held out the rats to her.

_Her arms were filled with the heavy, furry bodies. Rukhash's mother looked down on her tiny, half goblin daughter with round eyes, impressed with the haul. "What's all this, then?" Rukhash's mother asked with a knowing smirk._

_Rukhash smiled toothily and shuffled the large rats in her arms. They were each nearly as big as her, and she was covered in their blood from the fierce battle that followed her discovery of their hole. "I caughts 'em both!" Rukhash said brightly, haughty pride in her voice._

_"Lyin' little rat," her older sister, Botarg, growled from her seat at their mother's side. "Yer too small to catch big things like 'at. What'd you do, have Bogdish catch 'em fer ya?"_

_"Nar!" Rukhash protested, upset, and clutched her hard won kill more tightly to her chest._

_Her mother scowled at Botarg. "Don' pester yer sister," she growled, pulling Rukhash into her lap, bloody rat bodies and all. Rukhash leaned back into the warmth of her mother's arms as the orcess lifted the rats from her grasp by their long, naked tails. "She's the lucky sprog," she added as she examined the fat rodents appreciatively, their toothy mouths gaping and red with Rukhash's blood. Rukhash reveled in her mother's pleased expression. Her injuries were not so terrible, and she would not complain of them. She was a strong Uruk hai!_

_Botarg rolled her eyes and set her attention on her newborn son. "Whatever," she scoffed as she shifted her son to nurse at her other breast. "She's only the lucky one 'cause she come with a set a knives," Botarg mumbled crossly._

_"Shut it!" Rukhash's mother hissed, lowering the rats to the stony floor and glaring at her older daughter dangerously. "I told you not ta say that kind a shit ta her." Botarg wrinkled her nose, annoyed, but didn't say anything more._

_Rukhash's mother turned her attention back to her younger daughter. "You've caught us a fine breakfast, my girl," she said, running her fingers through Rukhash's unwieldy hair._

_Rukhash frowned thoughtfully. "One's fer dad," she said, pointing to the larger of the two rats. Botarg snorted to herself._

_A rasping chuckle sounded from the far corner of the den. "Your dad's good and busy lately," her grandfather said, leaning out of the shadows, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. "Why don't you give one to your old grandpa Geth?" He flashed his teeth, yellow and crooked, though the smile he graced her with never reached his eyes._

_Rukhash worried her lip, looking from the rat she intended for her father to her granddad. Rukhash liked her grandpa Geth, he had brought her a china faced doll with bright blue eyes and painted cheeks from the last raid he had been on, but she really wanted to give her fist kill to her father. Her dad had been excited when he told her about the best ways to go about stalking and catching things, and Rukhash wanted to show him that she had been attentive to his lesson._

_Rukhash twisted to look up at her mother imploringly. Her mother looked down on her with an odd expression that Rukhash couldn't place. She looked sad, or guilty or maybe a little of both. Her brow furrowed over her red eyes and she smiled hesitantly. "All right," she said with an anxious sigh. "It's early yet, so 'e shouldn't be too busy. Why don't we go pay yer dad a visit?"_

_A part of Rukhash forgot the harrowing experience of her first kill entirely. She had never been up to the forge. She did her best to hide her extreme excitement. "Yea," she agreed cheerfully._

_"Hegdash," Geth scowled at his daughter. "You can't be serious." Rukhash wondered at the derision in her granddad's voice. Her dad and granddad didn't seem to get along very well. Her father always avoided the old man whenever he came to visit, and the few words she had overheard them exchange were not pleasant._

_Straitening her shoulders, Hegdash leveled her father with an even stare. "Course I am," she said calmly, rising to her feet and setting Rukhash on the ground._

_Geth shook his head reprovingly as Hegdash led Rukhash by the hand to the washbasin in the rear of the den. "You don't owe that miserable prick anything," he scolded._

_"Dad," Hegdash growled, glaring at her father. "It ain't any a yer fuckin' business!" Rukhash frowned as her grandfather crossed his arms and proceeded to sulk in the corner. She never could understand why he was so fussy when it came to her father._

_Hegdash made Rukhash wipe herself down and change into a clean tunic before they left. Rukhash had this done in short order. She pulled a small pair of soft soled shoes on her feet. Her feet were much different from other Uruk hai. While her mother's and sisters' and brothers' feet were more manlike, with the toes in a strait line at the top, Rukhash's feet resembled her father's and nan's, more rodent-like, with longer digits and the large toe pulled back and to the side. Hegdash always insisted that her half goblin daughter wear shoes when she was outside the den, even though none of her other siblings had to. Only her soldier brothers wore boots, and that was when they were up top or out fighting. When they visited the den, they walked around barefoot as well. Rukhash didn't bother arguing it any more, even though she hated the way that the shoes squished her toes._

_She and her mother passed Geth again on their way out. Rukhash's nan had wandered into the den while she was washing, and the large, broad orcess smiled down at the fat, bloodied rodents resting on Hegdash's pallet. "Who is hunter?" the orcess asked Hegdash._

_"This one here," Hegdash said brightly, reaching down to ruffle Rukhash's hair. "My little Rukhash, she caught two of 'em all on her own."_

_"Ah!" Rukhash's nan smiled widely at her, revealing a set of large, yellow fangs. "Strong little granddaughter," the older orcess praised and scooped Rukhash up into her massive arms. Rukhash giggled and rested her head on her nan's muscular shoulder._

_"You mind keepin' an eye on one, mum?" Hegdash asked as she lifted the largest rat up and handed it to Rukhash. "She wants ta give the other ta her dad."_

_Rukhash's nan eyed her daughter with a knowing look. "That is right thing," the orcess said in her thick, baritone accent. "Daughter give kill to father." Hegdash nodded and pulled Rukhash into her arms. The older female squatted near the remaining rat protectively. "Bidush watch," Rukhash's nan confirmed. "Hegdash bring Rukhash to Gijakzi. No worry over other rat."_

_Botarg scoffed and stood, removing her self to a quieter part of the den. "I don't see what all the fuss is about," she grumbled and she coddled her son. Bidush rolled her eyes at her older, pouting granddaughter and shooed Rukhash and her mother out the door with a wave of her large, clawed hand._

_"You're not going to stare at it the whole time, are you heart?" Rukhash heard her grandfather say in his bright, sing song voice as she and her mother left the den. "Why don't you come sit with your old Geth?"_

* * *

_Rukhash clutched her father's rat tightly as her mother carried her the whole way, through dozens of long hallways and up flight upon flight of stairs. The morning was still early, so the halls were fairly quiet, and they only passed a handful of snaga on their way to the forge. A strong, stinging smell, like rotten eggs and metal, let Rukhash know they were close. The entrance to the forge was imposing and impressive all at once, with a wide, high door covered in black, crossed bars. The heavy iron door was cracked open. There was a loud ringing of hammers striking metal coming from inside, and Rukhash bit her lip with anticipation. Hegdash paused at the entrance and peered in cautiously. Rukhash was surprised by the anxious smell on her._

_As they entered, Rukhash's head swiveled around, taking in the dozen or so goblins at the anvils by the wide, fiery furnaces. The stink of burning and sulfur and sweat was heady, and Rukhash covered her sensitive nose to the overpowering stench. How could her father spend all of his time here and still be able to smell anything? Hegdash paused and Rukhash turned in her arms to stare at her father's back. He crouched on a stool, looming over a long, wide worktable as he sifted through sheets of paper. Rukhash hadn't seen her father in days, and a part of her cheered at the sight of his tense shoulders._

_"Gijakzi," Hegdash called to him, and Rukhash looked at her mother, confused as to why she didn't approach him._

_"The fuck're you doin' here, Hegdash," her father snarled from his spot, not bothering to look up. Rukhash cringed at his tone. She could not remember him ever sounding so cross, and she wondered if she should have stayed in the den after all. It was exciting to see where her father worked, making weapons and machines and drawing plans for their Master, but she didn't want to make her dad angry._

_The young orcess felt her mother tense. "Rukhash has something she wants to give you," Hegdash told him evenly as she set her daughter on the cold flagstone._

_"Oh she does, eh?" her father growled sarcastically as he turned. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her, one arm clutching her mother's bare leg and the other wrapped around the rodent she had caught earlier. Rukhash wasn't sure what to make of her father at the moment. She had never heard him sound so hateful. She didn't understand why he looked so surprised to see her, when her mother had just told him she was here to give him something._

_To Rukhash's relief, the sneer on his face evaporated as he swung down from his stool and approached her, a small smile forming on his lips. Rukhash always liked how her father walked, bracing himself on his knuckles and going on all fours. She had tried to walk like him once, but her legs were too strait and long, even though her arms were as lengthy as his, and she ended up hobbling around with her rear in the air. Bogdish had laughed and called her a snaga, and that was the last time she had tried to mimic her father's easy gait._

_Gijakzi halted a pace in front of her, and his yellow eyes flicked from Rukhash to her mother and back. He reared back on his haunches and gestured towards the rat in her hand. "What've you got fer yer old dad, then?" he asked in his familiar, gentle tone, his voice rumbling and warm as he eyed the rat with a grin._

_Rukhash returned his smile and held her kill out for him to inspect. The dead rat hung stiffly from her grasp. "I caught 'is fer ya, da," she said brightly._

_Letting out a breathy laugh, Gijakzi plucked the rodent delicately from her. "Well, 'ats a fine, big beast ya caught, my blighter," he told her proudly and Rukhash straitened, beaming. Her dad didn't seem angry at all, and Rukhash felt silly over the thread of fear she'd felt a moment before._

_"_ _She caught two of 'em," Hegdash told him as she crouched down to pat Rukhash on the head. "Two big ol' rats. One fer me an' one fer you," Hegdash looked at him poignantly, and Gijakzi's smile was briefly replaced by a concerned frown, "so I wanted ta bring 'er ta give ya yers. She insisted the biggest one were fer you." A strange look passed between her mother and father in that moment, and Rukhash fidgeted, feeling as though something was being said between them that she couldn't hear. "I hope it's arright," Hegdash continued, "'at I brought 'er up 'ere."_

_Gijakzi swallowed roughly, smiling at his daughter. "Course it is," he said, running his thumb across a long, thin set of red scratches on Rukhash's cheek. "She can come up 'ere any time she wants." Gijakzi gave Hegdash a stern look. "So long as_ He _ain't around," he added._

_"I ain't a fuckin' idiot," Hegdash whispered fiercely, pulling Rukhash into her arms._

_Snorting, Gijakzi nodded and flashed Hegdash a fanged smirk. "I know 'at well enough," he rumbled. "Be good fer yer mum, lil' blighter" he told Rukhash brightly, pinching her small chin between his calloused fingers, "an' you come an' visit whenever ya feel like it."_

_Rukhash nodded and leaned out of her mother's arms to embrace her father's neck. She reveled in his scent, like fire and leather, and hugged him close, though he seemed to stiffen uncharacteristically at her show of affection. "I miss ya da," she told him. "Hope ya come down an visit soon."_

_With a deep breath, Gijakzi gently lifted her off of him by the wrists and placed her back into Hegdash's arms. "We'll see, mite," he said with a sad smile and nodded to Hegdash._

_"Just a quick pop in, this time," Hegdash told Rukhash as she stood tall, towering over Gijakzi. Rukhash thought her mother looked nervous as she glanced around the forge, and Rukhash noticed a few of the small goblin smiths had stopped what they were doing to stare at her curiously._

_Rukhash watched from over her mother's shoulder as her father hopped back on his seat, gently laying the rodent she brought him on his work table. Hegdash seemed eager to leave, and her pace did not slow until they reached the start of the dens on the lower levels. "You be careful," Hegdash told her later, "who sees you with yer dad."_

_"Why's 'at?" Rukhash asked as her mother salved her bite wounds. They were in one of the more private corners of the den, sectioned off from the main room by angled walls._

_"You don't want the Master catchin' sight a ya," her mother said with a serious expression. "He'll be real mad if 'e found out yer dad ain't Uruk hai, you understand? You an' me an' yer dad 'd be in big trouble." Hegdash's face was grim. Rukhash had seen her mother angry or enraged plenty of times, when another female challenged her or threatened one of her sprogs; or cross, when Rukhash and Bogdish would play pranks on their older sisters, but she had never seen her mother so serious looking. She almost looked frightened._

_Rukhash absorbed that information quietly. "Ok mum," she whispered._

_"'At's my girl," Hegdash said, tweaking the pointed tip of her ear. "Now, why don't you go play with Bogdish," Hegdash regarded her daughter sternly, "and no mussin' around with Kragolnauk's weapons," she added in a firm tone. "He were real mad the last time, when you an yer brother glued 'is sword in its sheath."_

_Rukhash snorted into her hands. She and Bogdish had been whipped good with a belt after that little exploit, but Kragolnauk's expression, when he went to unsheathe his blade to teach Thraangzi some sword techniques, was well worth their sore bottoms later. "Yes, mum," she agreed, but noticed her mother's amused smirk. Hegdash had found their prank funny too._

_"Oi, sis," Bogdish poked his head around the corner and grinned toothily at Rukhash. "Good catch! 'At bugger you killt 'ad a head the size a mine!"_

_Rukhash beamed at her brother's praise and jumped to her feet. "Wanna see where I found it?"_

_"Fuckin,' yuh know I do!" Bogdish exclaimed eagerly, hopping from foot to foot. Rukhash vaulted from her spot by her mother's side, the dark shadow of the Wizard and her parents' odd behavior quickly forgotten, and dragged her older brother towards the corridor that led down into the lowest levels..._

Rukhash fingered the rodent skull thoughtfully. She had caught this one with Bogdish that same morning. They had come across a large nest, and the battle that followed was ferocious, but they returned to the den victorious, covered in bloody scratches and bites and nearly a dozen large rats carried between them. Her sister had finally been impressed with that, though Botarg had given most of the credit to Bogdish, who staunchly refused it, insisting that he and Rukhash had fought bravely together. Rukhash smiled to herself. She and Bogdish were very close in age, and they had gotten into a lot of scrapes together when they were small. He had been sent to the barracks just before Orthanc flooded and was chosen for a mission headed by Uglúk, one of the older Captains, just a few weeks before the river drowned them. Rukhash never learned of his fate.

She hoped Bogdish was somewhere in the world, living a happy life. Though they quarreled amongst themselves and teased each other and played pranks on one another, he had always been quick to stand up in her defense. He had been a good brother to her.

Rukhash's thoughts turned to Mordor and her father. A real part of her hoped to find him there, though she wondered how he would react to Cadoc. Gijakzi had hated her grandfather, though it took Rukhash most of her young life to figure that out. Her father had been cordial enough towards Geth when she was around, but now that she was older, she could only see animosity on their dealings with one another. She wondered if her father's hate stemmed from the fact that her grandfather was a Man, or if it was a more personal matter. Either way, it made her anxious should Cadoc and her father ever meet. In the choice between her dad and her  _shaûk_ , she would side with Cadoc. He was her heart's companion, after all, and her loyalties would ever lie with him, but Rukhash truly did not desire to make that choice. She remembered her father with great affection.

The road ahead of them would not be easy. Rukhash could see many pitfalls in their path from the larger animosity between their people to the customs that they would carry over to their children, but she was determined to stick by Cadoc no matter what. They had made a promise to one another, and Rukhash would not wriggle out of it. She cared about him too much to betray him in such a way.

Though she had her worries and her doubts, she still looked forward to a life with Cadoc. He had brought a joy to her that she long thought was lost, and had proven himself to be a worthy  _shaûk_.


	28. The Long Road Ahead

**Splint  
Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Long Road Ahead**

* * *

Cadoc watched his mother bustle about the kitchen as she made them tea. There was a thoughtful expression on her face, and Cadoc wished she would do away with the fussing and say her piece. When she had called him inside, he knew she had words regarding his relationship with Rukhash. He had faced Edda's protests and Hedon's discomfort, it was only a matter of time before he heard his mother's thoughts on the matter. Guthwen poured steaming water into Edda's fancy, china teapot, and Cadoc wondered what manner of conversation this would be.

The attack on them had horrified everyone, and much of the animosity that lingered for Rukhash in the wake of her abysmal behavior vanished with the family's concern for her. However, when Cadoc told Edda about his choice to remain with Rukhash permanently, that bloody night served as a reminder to his sister and mother of the ugly hatred he and Rukhash would face in the world. Edda voiced her concern first, quietly and reasonably, but she was obviously frustrated by Cadoc's refusal to budge. Now that departure was only hours away, Cadoc could sense a desperation in his family to persuade him to change his mind.

Cadoc quietly steeled himself while his mother bobbed the basket of tea leaves in the hot water, going about the preparation with methodic ritual. Her expression was indiscernible. She poured two cups, one for her and one for her son, into matching mugs. Cadoc replied with a thin smile and a quiet thanks as his mother set his tea before him. Guthwen sat in the chair at his right, and regarded her son for long, silent minutes.

"You are a grown man," she said at last, "so I am not exactly sure what it is I should say to you concerning this... decision."

Cadoc released a long breath from his nose, staring down at the warm, brown liquid in his cup. "Perhaps," he replied quietly, "you should simply say what you are thinking."

"Your father would be appalled," Guthwen told him, her lined brow fixed in a troubled knot above her nose.

"I imagine you are right," Cadoc admitted. "Is that how you feel also?"

Swallowing anxiously, Guthwen stared down at the light oak surface of the kitchen table, her mouth drawn in a tight, worried frown. "I am not sure how I feel," she told him quietly. "Really, I must be getting old, I can't believe that I did not realize the affection between the two of you sooner. Edda had to tell me..." Guthwen huffed and shook her head, taking a long sip from her mug. "It is not that I dislike her, Cadoc. She is nothing like the stories I have heard, but I am concerned that you make this choice in haste."

"I assure you," he told his mother seriously, "I am well aware of the consequences of my actions."

Tracing the pad of her thumb along the rim of her cup, Guthwen quietly closed her eyes. "I am not speaking of what  _others_  will think, Cadoc," she said. "I am sure you have considered all of the logistics in this matter. I am curious to know if you have though much on what your life will be with her. I wonder if you make this choice for reasons other than your affection for her, if you choose to stay with her to make up for your failings with Ingrid."

Cadoc felt a little ball of anger well up in him, but swallowed it down. He would not lose his temper with his mother. She had his best interests at heart, even if those interests did not involve his happiness. "What happened between myself and Ingrid has  _nothing_  to do with my decision to remain with Rukhash. If I was looking for a wife, I could have made a much simpler choice in the matter ages ago."

"Ma," Cadoc said gently, taking her soft, creased hand in his own, calloused one, "Rukhash is not some replacement for a life I feel as though I have lost. I mourn the mistakes I have made, but I am not trying to amend those mistakes by being with her. Do you think I choose her lightly? Do you think I have not considered every option? If we try to remain here, others will seek her death. At least in Nûrn we have hope of a peaceable life, whether among her own people or among Men that are more understanding. That does not mean that I  _want_  to leave the life I have here. If there were a way for me to continue being a ranger and remain with her, I would, but she is more important to me than the wilderness."

Guthwen squeezed his hand, shaking her head ruefully. "I always hoped you would return from your travels one year with a woman on your arm, so I could know you would have some companionship as you grew older. Rukhash is not exactly what I had in mind." She chuckled to herself. "I suppose I should have been careful in what I wished for. I am not quite sure what it is you see in her, Cadoc. She is pleasant enough, I suppose, and clever, but she is such a crass young thing! Not at all the type I would imagine you with."

It felt strange to speak of Rukhash as though she were a rowdy young woman, but he supposed that was how his mother saw the orcess. Guthwen had married a ranger, but did not face his dangers. In many ways, when Rukhash had first arrived, she had been a novelty to his family: an orc that did not behave violently, that could be trusted around the children. Rukhash's crass and blunt nature had been amusing until she showed how violent she  _could_  be. It had surprised Cadoc as well, when he saw it, but he accepted it as part of who, and what, she was. Rukhash might have the capacity for violence that he had seen in other orcs, but she had a gentleness in her that he assumed was also in her people's nature. Cadoc had brought her home thinking she was an exception, only to find that she very well may be a rule. "She challenges me," Cadoc admitted quietly, "in more way than one. She is intelligent and capable, and," Cadoc added with a light blush, "I've grown to find her crassness rather charming

"It doesn't trouble you, what happened when she was imprisoned?"

Cadoc sighed. Rukhash's behavior in those first few weeks of her incarceration were a sticking point with his whole family, and he could understand their perspective. He was glad, though, that Rukhash had faced those demons in her past. A part of him was even grateful for the attack on them both. Cadoc may have let her slip away with little complaint if he had not come so close to losing her forever.

"It doesn't," Cadoc told his mother. "She had reasons for her behavior, and I am glad she battled that darkness and won. She is a stronger person for it, I think. Though she does regret her actions towards Edda and the children. She has apologized to them on numerous occasions since she has returned."

"I know. I cannot imagine such grief as she has suffered." Guthwen looked at Cadoc poignantly. "Though, I think I can come close. I was inconsolable in the months that you were missing, Cadoc. I am not sure what I will do when you leave this time. I am not sure I could stand not knowing what will become of you."

"I promise to write," Cadoc said with a bright smile, hoping to cheer her up.

Guthwen laughed, a desperate, anxious sound, and took another sip of her tea. "I am sure you will," she replied tersely, unamused. "What of your boy, Cadoc?"

Cadoc's smile faltered at the mention of Holgar. He wasn't sure if there was much he could do with regard to his son, short of traveling to Minas Tirith and begging on his knees for Holgar's forgiveness, and that might not even be enough. "I have already written him," Cadoc said. "Just as I wrote him last year and the year before when he started his apprenticeship. I have set aside another letter for Edda to send after I have left. He has chosen not to write me back, and I do not blame him." Cadoc sighed and took a long draught of his cup, nearly draining it. The tea was cold. "I am proud of him, ma," Cadoc told Guthwen, a pained look crossed his features, "but I am also aware he wants nothing to do with me."

Wrinkling the bridge of her nose angrily, Guthwen fidgeted with her mug. "It's that Ingrid..."

"No, ma," Cadoc interrupted her. "It was  _me_. It was always me. I could not see beyond my own anger to acknowledge his. Holgar has every right to sever our ties, but I intend to continue to write him as well. Perhaps one day, his anger will cool and we might rebuild what was lost between us."

"How do you intend to do that, if you are halfway across the world?" Guthwen asked skeptically.

"Mother, Mordor is not halfway across the  _world_ ," he chided good naturally. "It is a few months away on _foot_ , and Nûrn is not so far from Minas Tirith. If Holgar ever did wish to see me, I would certainly go to him."

"You are your  _father_ ," Guthwen admonished. "Stubborn as the day is long! You think you are capable of  _anything_. You are not getting any younger _,_  Cadoc. You will not be able to wander the world forever."

"I don't intend to," he assured her with a thin smile.

With a sigh, Guthwen rose from her seat and Cadoc followed suit as she cleared their mugs away. Coming to stand before her son, Guthwen reached up to squeeze Cadoc's upper arm. "No matter what I say to you,I know you will only do as you wish," she told him. "If this is what you wish, then I cannot be angry at you for it. I feared for you when you picked up the sword to follow in your father's footsteps, and I feared for you when you marched to War, and I will fear for you now, but if she is what will make you happy, then I will not stand between you two."

Putting his arm around her shoulders, Cadoc pressed his lips to his mother's cool, silver temple. "I hope you will not fear too much," he told her. "I would rather you were happy for me."

Guthwen sighed as she embraced him around the middle. "Of course, I am happy for you." Cadoc did not think she sounded very happy at all.

* * *

When she entered the cottage, Edda found Rukhash dozing lightly on the sofa in the main room, her necklace of teeth looped loosely in her palm. The orcess blinked awake slowly as she entered, stretching lazily as she sat up. Rukhash regarded her troubled expression, concerned.

"Hey, Edda," Rukhash supposed, since Cadoc was having his talking to, she was due for one as well. She wondered what Edda thought she could say that would change her mind.

Cadoc's sister cast a quick glance to the pile of knapsacks and weapons stacked near the door. "I see you've packed," Edda said lightly, forcing a smile.

"Cadoc wants an early start tomorrow," Rukhash explained as she stood.

"I see…"

Rukhash worried her lip. "You need something, Edda?"

Edda approached her slowly, coming to stand an arm's length from Rukhash. She bore the same, anxious expression she possessed when she confronted Rukhash upon her return, and the orcess took a deep breath, prepared for whatever it was Edda had to say. She would not lose her patience. Rukhash reminded herself that Edda was Cadoc's sister, and she wanted the best for her brother. Putting herself in someone else's place was not a habit she was prone to, but living among men forced her to understand things from a mannish perspective. If Rukhash was Edda, she would have left her brother to his own business. That was the orcish way of things, but Men were a different lot. "You need to convince him not to do this," Edda said hastily. "If you love my brother, you will not condemn him to a life of peril."

The orcess could feel her molars grind together dangerously. Rukhash  _wanted_  to be understanding, she really did, but enough was enough. Edda acted like Cadoc would be slain the moment he stepped out the door with her. "I'm real fucking glad yer so worried about him," the orcess gritted out. "I said I'd watch 'is back, an' I meant it. Anyone lookin' ta get to Cadoc'll have ta go through me first."

"That does not make me feel any better," Edda replied crossly.

Rukhash chuffed, angry, her nostrils flaring. "What do ya want me ta say ta make ya feel better, then?"

"I want you to tell me you will not make him go through with this!" Edda shrieked. "If he stays with you he will  _die_. What you are asking of him is completely selfish!"

Rukhash had not been this furious with Edda since her blind rage in prison, only this time she felt justified in that anger. She would be giving up a great deal to be with Cadoc. Her life would be infinitely less complicated if she was not attached to a man that had formerly hunted her race. They would not have an easy time settling down – it could take years – but she had accepted that fact already. He meant too much to abandon because he would make her life more difficult. That wasn't what a  _shaûk_  would do. "No one's dyin' any sooner an' they would be normally," Rukhash snapped. She took a steadying breath. Edda was not an orc, and Rukhash would not quarrel with her as though she was. This argument would not be settled with a few sharp blows and a hearty laugh afterwards. She would have to use her words in this.

"You know," Rukhash said, gentling her tone to annoyance, "I'm real sick of hearin' folks tell Cadoc he's makin' such a big fuckin' mistake. I ain't got no one to back me in this but him, an' the more you folks press 'im the more I realize I made a good fuckin' choice. You think I'm bein' selfish?  _Sha_!" Rukhash spat. "He's all I got right now. Just Cadoc an' 'at's it. Yer fuckin' right I'm gonna be selfish wit' him." Rukhash quietly cursed the pressure building behind her traitorous eyes. "I lost everythin'," she sniffed miserably, "an' now I found someone I care about,  _really_ care about, an' 'is whole fuckin' family is tellin' him I'm a rotten shit."

Edda was taken back by Rukhash's tears. She didn't think of the orcess's feelings in the matter, and some of her anger towards this orc woman who was stealing her brother away abated with pity. "I never said you were rotten-"

"I ain't a bad catch, ya know," Rukhash cut her off. "I'm a bit scrawny, but I got a good eye wit' a bow, an' a healer got a high status in a tribe."

Edda huffed. "Then why don't you find another  _orc_?" she asked, throwing her arms in the air with exasperation. "After what you and my brother have been through, I am surprised you would want to expose him to _more_  danger!"

"I don' want anyone else," Rukhash snarled. "I want  _Cadoc_! It's cause a what we been through 'at I know fer sure he's the one I want. He stuck wit' me through thick an' thin. That's what a  _shaû_ -" Rukhash hesitated, unsure if she wanted to try and explain what a  _shaûk_  was to Edda. Cadoc had taken a long time to understand it himself. "'At's what an orc-husband'd do," she quickly corrected. Husband was not quite the right word, but it was close enough as far as her point went.

"Cadoc isn't an  _orc_." If Cadoc would not see reason in this matter, she hoped Rukhash would, but Edda felt as though she had already lost this argument.

"I don't  _care,_ " Rukhash was all but weeping now, thoroughly upset, and Edda was not far behind her. She felt awful. What had possessed her to have this conversation in the first place?

"Edda..." Cadoc was standing at the door, looking from his sister to Rukhash with a worried frown. Rukhash stiffed miserably and turned away to wipe her face. "It's enough, Edda," Cadoc told his sister sternly. "I've made my choice." Edda looked close to crying herself, but she said nothing as she rushed out of the cottage, pushing past him without a word. For a moment, Cadoc thought to follow her, to try and assure her in some way, but she had Elador and their mother for that. Cadoc would not leave Rukhash miserable and alone.

Padding quietly across the room, Cadoc took Rukhash into his arms. She buried her face in his shirt. "Everyone fuckin' hates me," she lamented.

"No one hates you," he sighed, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "They are just worried. They don't understand."

Sniffing, Rukhash lifted her head to meet his gaze. "What'd yer mum say?"

Cadoc pushed a loose hair behind her ear. "She is concerned," he admitted, "but she is not angry with me or with you. This is hard for them, Rukhash. A few months ago, they thought I was dead. Now, I am leaving with no intention of returning."

"They think I'm gonna kill you," Rukhash said miserably.

"I do not think they believe  _you_  will kill me, but we do face many challenges." Cadoc rallied a brave smile. "I look forward to them," he told her honestly.

Rukhash matched his smile with a watery one of her own. "Yer worth every challenge," she told him earnestly, and Cadoc felt his heart swell at such an admission.

He bent to catch her mouth in a chaste, lingering kiss. "So are you," he replied.

* * *

Dinner was a family affair. Rukhash had wanted to stay in the cottage, but Cadoc requested that she accompany him. She did not think she could handle any more scrutiny from Cadoc's kin, but it would be cowardly for her to force him to face them alone.

The orcess quietly wished she could sink into the floor as she sat at the long, dark table, surrounded by Cadoc's family as they ate in brooding silence. Aside from the man she had pledged herself to, the only individuals that did not seem intent on giving her the hairy stink eye were Morwen and Wulf. Rukhash wondered how much they knew concerning the nature of her relationship with their uncle, but she thought it better not to ask. They had picked up on the somber mood around the table, eating the roasted chicken and potatoes Edda prepared as quietly as everyone else.

Morwen glanced up from her place across from Rukhash with a frown. This was her uncle's last night home and Morwen didn't understand why everyone was being so gloomy. She had been a little shocked when her mother sat her down and told Morwen that Uncle Cadoc and Rukhash were lovers, but after that initial surprise, Morwen realized it made perfect sense. She remembered the appreciative look on her uncle's face when he saw Rukhash dressed up on the night of the festival, how he refused to leave her alone to suffer in jail, and his fervent vigil at her sickbed. A million little clues clicked into place, and Morwen smiled to herself. She didn't know why her mother and grandmother were so upset. Morwen thought it was terribly romantic.

She wanted to break the tension in the room, but Morwen couldn't think of the right thing to say. Wulf beat her to the punch, though not in the most tactful way. "So," he said with a half-full mouth, staring at Rukhash, "should we call you Aunty Rukhash now?" Morwen didn't want to be rude, so she snickered into her napkin.

Her mirth died immediately when she saw the grim expressions on her grandmother and mother and father's faces. "Wulf," father said, matter-of-factly, "they are not married. She is not your aunt."

A sick expression passed over Rukhash's face while her Uncle Cadoc's jaw tightened. They stared at their plates and said nothing, looking as though they were being punished. Morwen felt terrible for them. "Aren't thy orc-married?" Morwen supplied, glancing towards Rukhash to see if she guessed correctly. Rukhash poked at her potatoes with a subtle nod. "That's close enough, isn't it?"

Elador let out a low, slow breath through his nose, and Morwen clammed up. Everyone seemed so furious, even grandmother looked cross, and Morwen couldn't understand why. Wouldn't it be hard enough for her uncle out in the world? Shouldn't they be wishing him luck? Morwen cast a hurried glance towards her brother. Wulf's mouth was drawn in a thin line. He didn't want to get into trouble either, but it didn't seem right to Morwen. This was Rukhash! She had saved their uncle and spent the better part of the winter with them. She even helped Morwen babysit little Hallas, cooing and warbling at him while Morwen heated his bottle. So what if she got a little cranky in prison? She was in prison! Morwen would be angry too, if she had to sleep on a dirty little mattress on the floor after finding out the man that killed her children was still alive.

"Well," Morwen said in a haughty tone, straightening her shoulders defiantly, " _I_  think it is close enough."

"Morwen," Edda warned from her place next to Elador, "let it be."

"I will not!" Morwen argued. "Everyone is moping as though we will be going to a funeral tomorrow." Morwen turned her attention to her uncle's surprised face. "I am happy for you Uncle Cadoc," she told him earnestly before fixing her gaze on the orcess at his side, "and you too,  _Aunty_  Rukhash."

Rukhash favored her with a small smile. "Thanks, kid," she murmured. Cadoc smiled wanly and nodded towards her.

"I'm happy for you too!" Wulf chimed in petulantly.

An anxious look passed over Elador and Edda and Guthwen. "It's not that we aren't happy for you," Edda interjected.

"We are only worried about you," Guthwen agreed.

What followed after was a long series of apologies and concerned expressions and Rukhash wriggled uncomfortably in her seat as Cadoc's mother and sister and brother-in-law tried to make amends with him. Rukhash wished she could slink under the table, and focused her attention squarely on her plate. No one cared to address her on the matter. Though, she supposed she had made her feelings perfectly clear to Edda earlier.

"We just want you to be safe," Elador's calm voice cut through the garble of noise. "Both of you," he added, nodding towards Rukhash. The orcess returned his nod quietly, both thankful for the gesture and resentful that she was an afterthought.

* * *

The night air was cool, but Rukhash could scent a hint of spring warmth. They were starting their journey much later than expected. She stood on the porch of the main house, gazing idly at the dark cottage in the distance. Cadoc was inside, speaking with his family. Rukhash couldn't hear what they were saying, but their tone sounded more cheerful than it had in weeks. She thought she caught the airy laughter of Edda at one point. Rukhash wasn't in the mood to stand in the middle of them at the moment. She would say her goodbyes in the morning, after cooling off overnight.

The front door creaked, and Rukhash turned, expecting Cadoc, only to come face to face with Wulf and Morwen. She smiled at them. This pair she didn't mind seeing. "Thanks, you two," the orcess said quietly, Morwen and Wulf returned her smile.

Morwen rushed her first, wrapping her arms around Rukhash's neck while Wulf tacked himself to her middle. "I'm going to miss you!" he cried.

"Me too," Morwen said, releasing the orcess and stepping back to give Rukhash some space.

Shaking her head, Rukhash ruffled Wulf's hair before prying him from her waist. "Gonna miss you sprogs too," she said with a small laugh. "Yer a good pair'a kids."

Wulf had an earnest look. "Don't be angry at mom and dad and granny," he implored.

"I ain't angry," Rukhash sighed, then paused. "Well," she corrected, "I'm kinda angry, but I understand 'at they're worried 'bout yer uncle."

"I don't see why," Morwen huffed, crossing her arms.

Rukhash couldn't believe what she was about to say. "There's plenty ta worry 'bout," the orcess admitted. "There're folks a his and folks a mine 'at'd be more'n happy to see us dead. Me'n yer uncle, what we're planin' on ain't the smartest thing."

Morwen frowned. "But you love each other," she protested.

Rukhash did not care for such insubstantial words, but she did not feel like correcting Morwen's statement. The girl might take it the wrong way. "You'd think that'd be enough," Rukhash said somberly, "but there's a lot 'at separates my folk an yers. Me an yer uncle, we're up fer figurin' it out, but 'at don' mean we'll have a simple time a it."

"Well, I think it's romantic," Morwen said wistfully.

Wulf wrinkled his nose. "You would!" He poked his sister and Rukash laughed. "I think you're going to have the best adventure," Wulf told the orcess seriously. "I wish I could go with you."

The orcess smiled indulgently at them both. How sheltered they were! But at least they did not share their parents troubled disposition about her and Cadoc. In many ways, their innocence was refreshing. Rukhash wondered if she had ever been so fresh faced and wide eyed. "Maybe you could come find us when yer older," she told Wulf with a smirk.

Wulf straightened, standing tall. "Maybe I will," he said.

* * *

Rukhash did part with Cadoc's family on good terms. Edda hugged her fiercely in the cool, misty morning. Guthwen sighed and shook her head and hugged the orcess as well. "Take care of my son," she told Rukhash.

"I plan on it," the orcess replied and meant it, though she didn't really understand why Guthwen should care at all. Cadoc was a grown man.

Elador favored her with a grim handshake, and Rukhash nearly laughed with dark humor, but bit down her mirth for the sake of Cadoc's kin. She didn't want them to think she was being smug about this.

Morwen and Wulf enveloped her in a group embrace, and Rukhash held them for a long minute, grateful for these strange, heartfelt children that had befriended her. She would miss this pair most of all.

By the time their goodbyes were said and they started on the road, the sun had burned the morning mist away, revealing a clear, cool day. Rukhash was dressed in a lighter tunic, but wore a cloak and hood to make her features less visible and temper the glare of midday. She wrapped a light scarf loosely around her neck, further shadowing her face. Cadoc told her they would be taking forest paths most of the way, and she didn't have to sweat under a hood. "Better safe 'en sorry," she told him.

* * *

**Last edited: June 2014**


	29. Logistics

**Splint  
** **Chapter 29: Logistics**

* * *

 

Gritting her teeth against a moan, Rukhash clenched her fists in the bedroll underneath her. It would be best if they were quiet about things, but Cadoc was making that very difficult from his place between her legs. His tongue discovered a particularly lovely spot and Rukhash yelped and shuddered, cursing and praising him in the same breath. Cadoc crawled up her body, smelling of a heady mixture of her arousal and his that made her tongue dry, and caught her mouth with his as he entered her with one, forceful thrust.

As Cadoc's mouth found her breast, Rukhash silently wished they could fuck their way clear across Gondor, even as she realized that would not be a possibility. More likely, evening activities would be relegated to quiet meals and watchful turns guarding the other, but they had not seen another soul in two days, and Cadoc had found no sign of anyone passing through the area. Rukhash decided to enjoy this brief, blissful interlude while she could.

They had been traveling for nearly a week, making their way through the back roads and forest paths that would bring them the least attention. Only a lone furrier had come upon them, waving from a distance as he set down snares. Cadoc had returned the greeting while Rukhash ducked her head, and they continued on their way, the hunter none the wiser that an orc had just passed by. Rukhash had to hand it to Cadoc, he knew how to avoid people. He could read the signs of passage that others had left behind like he could read letters. Where Rukhash had only picked up ghostly scents, Cadoc could tell how many men had passed by a particular area and how long ago they had done the passing. It was one of the more impressive things she had ever seen. Rukhash never knew you could tell so much by displaced leaves and a few stray footprints in soft earth.

However, they had not been able to engage in the pleasant activities that they currently enjoyed. Cadoc had insisted they keep their fire low, and each had taken a watch. He normally went first, allowing Rukhash to sleep through the early evening while she picked up the later shift, her eyes better equipped for the pitch of midnight. The country they passed through had been secured for years against the former forces of Mordor, but it was not safe for Rukhash, and Cadoc did not want them ambushed while they slept.

The first night, he did not wake her for a turn at watch, and she had been furious. "The fuck're you doin'?" she had nearly roared at him when she woke that morning, angered by the dark circles under his eyes. "Yer gonna kill yerself doin' shit like that. I'm yer  _shaûk_ , not some prim cunt what needs lookin' after! Next time ya don't wake me up I'm gonna knock you out. Then you'll get yer sleep whether ya want it or not." He had apologized and the next night he woke her for her turn. She had been groggy but glad he was not being stubborn about things, and she enjoyed watching over him while he slept. Cadoc did not snore, per se, but he did make an adorable little grunting noise every now and again. Rukhash had smiled in the darkness at his slack face and perked her sharp ears for anything that might threaten them.

When they had come across the small hollow earlier that evening, barely a cave, since it was little more than a wide slab of rock angled against a hill, their night began like any other. Cadoc had built a low fire and they ate a rabbit Rukhash had shot a few hours before, saving the traveling tack and dried meat for more desperate meals. After dinner, Rukhash had decided to wash up, wiping herself down with a damp rag and a little soap while Cadoc smoked his pipe quietly. She had dragged the cloth over her half naked torso slowly, glancing over her shoulder with a suggestive smile curling her lips while Cadoc watched with hungry eyes. He needed no invitation and she needed no convincing. It had been too long since they lay together, in Rukhash's opinion, and if Cadoc's enthusiasm was any indication, he had felt similarly.

Cadoc finished a few heartbeats after her with a quiet grunt and sank against her. Rukhash enjoyed the feel of his weight as he rested on top of her, the coarse texture of his hairy chest against her breasts, the steady thumping of his heart as it slowed to a normal rate. He hadn't the time to shave since they left, and his beard tickled her jaw, but Rukhash found she didn't mind. Though it forced her to keep her nibbling at his neck, unless she wanted hair in her mouth. That had taken a little getting used to. Pressing his forehead to hers, Cadoc gently slid out and off of her with a content sigh and Rukhash rolled to sit up, stretching languidly as she watched him pull on his breeches. Cadoc retrieved his pipe before returning to lounge next to her. She decided to finish her bath, since he had been kind enough to see about stripping the rest of her clothes. They sat in amiable silence for a while. The orcess finished bathing and pulled her own clothes back on, settling next to him. Cadoc stared into the darkness beyond the fire, a far away look on his face.

"What're ya thinkin' about?" she asked him, reaching up to run her claws lightly through his peppery beard. She was discovering she rather liked beards, or at least, she liked Cadoc's beard. Somehow, and she wasn't quite sure why, it made him look older, more distinguished. Though he didn't seem partial either way, she wouldn't mind if he decided to keep it, as long as it did not reach the monstrous proportions it attained when they had lived in her cave.

"Nothing in particular," he told her quietly before taking another pull of his pipe.

Rukhash frowned, unsure of his tone. They had not spoken much since they left Edda's, but they had covered a good distance on foot. Rukhash was used to long stretches of silence between them. It was a comfortable, companionable silence, and Rukhash liked that Cadoc was not the chatty type. She had never seen a point in filling the air with unnecessary words. Now she wondered if Cadoc's silence had been the brooding sort, if she had not noticed his discontent because she had been so happy. "You ain't havin' second thoughts, are ya?" she asked him anxiously.

Cadoc looked at her, startled. "No," he assured her, lowering his pipe and taking her hand in his. "No," he repeated earnestly, "of course I'm not."

"'Cause I'd want you ta tell me if ya were," she said, squeezing his hand. "I don't want ya stayin' with me 'cause you feel like ya have ta or somethin'. You could take it back, if ya want." It would kill her, probably, if Cadoc rescinded his promise to stay with her. She would grow to hate him for putting her in such an emotionally vulnerable position, but the thought of him growing to hate  _her_  was an even more unbearable thought.

Cadoc laid his pipe down on a small rock and pulled her into his arms. "Do not say such foolish things," he told her. "I have no regrets." He smiled down on her genuinely, and Rukhash felt a little of her tension relax. "I really am thinking of nothing in particular," he told her. "I suppose I'm just a little tired."

"You let me take first watch, 'en," she insisted, firming her mouth.

Cadoc laughed breathily and nodded. "I will not fight you on that," he said. Surprised by his quick acquiescence Rukhash looked him over and realized that he really  _did_  look tired. She sniffed lightly at him, hoping that he was not getting sick, but she could smell no illness on him.

Rukhash pressed her palm to his cheek, running her thumb along his angular cheekbone, and Cadoc leaned into her touch. His tired smile reached his eyes, which, to her relief, were clear and bright. Rukhash decided that he was simply worn down by their hurried pace and she noted to make sure they kept a more reasonable schedule. She hadn't minded Cadoc's desire to cross as much distance as possible, but he had obviously been pushing himself too hard. They had plenty of time to reach Mordor. Perhaps they might spend an extra day here. This area seemed uninhabited by Men, and she wouldn't mind a little more intimacy between them.

Deciding to push aside that argument until morning, she held Cadoc's gaze for a long minute, content with admiring his eyes. Their color was much different from the vibrant hues she was accustomed to, like a still, steady lake, silvery beneath a clear sky. Feeling a familiar swell of affection, Rukhash nuzzled the crown of his head. " _Hontu ob Cadoc kulut niin âmul_ ," she purred at him, laying a light kiss against his brow.

Cadoc frowned as she pulled back. A suspicious look crossed his face. "What did you just say about me?"

"Oi, so distrustful," she grumbled, pouting with mock indignation. "See if I pay ya a compliment again."

"You do not speak your own tongue to me very often," Cadoc said, raising a brow, "unless you are cursing at me, and you have not done that in a long while."

" _Gar_ ," she rumbled. "How do ya know I was cursin', eh? Maybe I were payin' ya lots a loud, angry compliments." She grinned at him mischievously, her little, white fang peeking out from under her lower lip.

Laughing, Cadoc pulled her back onto his lap. "Seriously, though," he pressed, his tone curious. "What did you say? I don't think I have ever heard your language sound so... gentle."

"'At's 'cause I were usually yellin' it at ya," she snickered, but reigned her mirth in to regard him seriously. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and pressed against him familiarly. "I said, yer eyes is like calm water, 'cause they remind me of a lake 'at my clan lived near. It were the same kinda color."

Cadoc smiled at that, and Rukhash watched his gentle expression turn playful. "I didn't know you were so poetic," he teased lightly.

She sorted and shoved his arm. "Don't be an arse, or I really won't never bother sayin' a nice thing about ya."

"Could you say it again?" Cadoc asked, a thoughtful look on his face. "More slowly this time."

Though she was tempted to mock him for fishing, she was happy, and amazed, that he seemed interested in understanding her tongue. For an impish moment, she thought to hold out on him, but thought better of it. It would be useful for him to know a little orcish, though a former Ranger might find more benefit in knowing the curses instead of the praise. Still, Rukhash found she was excited by the thought of speaking her own language with him. " _Hont-u ob Cadoc kul-ut niin aa-mul_ ," she repeated the phrase, drawing out they syllables, and watched as Cadoc's lips moved silently with hers.

"Haunta ub?" he ventured, unsure.

Rukhash snickered. " _Nar, nar_ ," she laughed. " _Hont-uh, hontu_. 'At means 'eyes'.  _Ob_  is like it belongs ta ya.  _Hontu ob Cadoc_ , Eyes of Cadoc."

Rukhash emphasized her lesson by tapping him on the nose, and Cadoc snatched her hand from his face, grinning as he tucked it between them. "Why not say, 'your eyes'?" he asked. "Do you not have such words?"

"Well, sure we do, but 'at's real unfriendly," Rukhash said, wrinkling her nose. "It's like the shit you'd say to a bloke if it weren't worth knowin' 'is name. I'd like ta think we're on better terms."

"I would say so," Cadoc agreed with a thoughtful expression as he ran his hand along her thigh. "So,  _hontu ob Rukhash_ , means 'Rukhash's eyes'."

"Right!" the orcess chirped. His accent was terrible, but she could help him correct that when he had a better handle on the language. " _Niin âmul_  is 'calm water'."

"Niin aamul," Cadoc parroted, and Rukhash was pleased he didn't butcher it. "So,  _âmul_  is 'water'?"

" _Niin_  is water," Rukhash corrected. " _Âmul_  is calm."

"So the descriptive comes after the noun," Cadoc murmured to himself and Rukhash frowned, unsure of what he was talking about. "I would guess that  _kulut_  means 'are'."

"Yea," the orcess said slowly, a little surprised he had picked that up without being told.

Cadoc smiled, pleased. "Could you teach me more words?" he asked.

The sky had dimmed from the vibrant blues and purples of dusk to black while they chattered, and Rukhash scowled at him. He was worse than a sprog trying to stay up past its bedtime. It was a fine job he was doing; making himself more exhausted. His eyes had a dark cast under them. Rukhash firmed her mouth and propped her hands on her hips, annoyed that he would put himself in such a vulnerable state. "You get some rest," she scolded. "I'll teach ya more words in the mornin."

* * *

Cadoc felt remarkably better when he opened his eyes. He had been so exhausted the night before that a sound, dreamless sleep had come upon him immediately. It took a few seconds for him to realize that it was  _morning_. The sky had lightened, birds were twittering on their perches, and Rukhash had not woken him to take watch the night before. His hackles rose a little at this. She had scolded him for the same action not six days ago, and here she had done the same thing. Cadoc sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, prepared to lecture her on the finer points of practicing what you preach, but found himself coming up short when he caught site of her.

She was hunched over the fire, poking at two, small fish roasting on long sticks stuck in the ground near the flames. She turned towards him with a wide, cheery smile. "Mornin'," she chirped.

"Good morning," Cadoc replied automatically. She looked awfully chipper for someone who had been awake all night. "You didn't wake me," he said sourly.

Rukhash shrugged carelessly. "I tried," she said. "Didn't seem like you were up fer it. Ya grumbled at me and rolled over." Rukhash returned to her vigil over their breakfast.

Taken aback, Cadoc rubbed his neck sheepishly. He shrugged on his shirt and joined her by the fire. "I'm sorry," he said, feeling awful. "You must be exhausted."

A laughing snort shook her shoulders. Rukhash pulled the sticks out of the ground and handed him one. "I'm fine," she said before taking a bite out of her fish, not bothering to be careful of the bones.

"I feel awful for forcing you to stay awake," he admitted, staring at his own fish. He wondered where she had gotten fish from.

"Dozed a bit here 'n there, so I ain't so bad off," she told him. "Been up fer days on end before, back when I were in Lugbúrz, so it weren't all  _that_  awful. 'Sides," she added, rubbing his back gently, "I owed ya one, didn't I? Can't say I tried that hard ta wake ya either. You looked like shit last night."

"Thanks," Cadoc said with a breathy laugh and held up his breakfast between them. "Where did you get these from?"

"Oh," she shrugged, "There's a little stream just over 'at ridge." Rukhash pointed to a line of trees about ten yards away. "Weren't too far, I figured. Caught us some breakfast an' refilled our water."

Cadoc felt a little of his annoyance return. "You wandered off? What if something happened to you?"

Huffing, Rukhash rolled her eyes. " _Skai_ ," she snapped, "Fer one, I weren't that far, and fer two, I were on my own fer years 'fore I met  _you_. Spent a good long while in the territory a my enemies, and they wasn't the wiser. I got ears, ya know,  _and_  a nose. If there were trouble I woulda woke ya." Rukhash fixed him with a pointed look. "You ain't the only bloke sittin' here what has ever had ta live in the wilderness. I been doin' it most a my  _life_. I know what ta look out fer."

Rukhash narrowed her eyes at him, noting the troubled look on his face. "What's up wit' you?" she asked. "Ever since we left yer sis, you've been actin' real queer."

"What do you mean by that?" Cadoc said defensively.

A frustrated growl rumbled in her throat. "I mean 'at you've been treatin' me like I need lookin' after, like I ain't got no idea how ta take care a myself.  _Nar largizish foshân_ , it's insulting!"

Cadoc let her orcish slide. He would ask her what it meant later. "I am aware that you know how to look after yourself," Cadoc said calmly. "I am just... concerned." Rukhash said nothing, but her brows were drawn in an angry  _V_  over her flashing, yellow eyes. Firming his jaw, Cadoc wasn't sure how much he wanted to share with regard to his worries. Though he didn't want to alarm her, he decided she should know them. They involved her as well, and he felt bad that she thought he believed her incapable. That certainly had not been his intension.

"Rukhash," Cadoc continued, "two of the men that attacked us were never found. I am concerned that they may try to find us now that we have left Halbard's jurisdiction. I am especially concerned that they may have alerted others to our existence. There would be no repercussions if they killed you here, nor if they were to kill me, since I am, technically, harboring you," Cadoc's expression became suddenly steely, "and they  _would_  have to kill me first."

"It is why I have been pushing us so hard," he continued. "Once we cross the Anduin into South Ithilien we should have an easier time. There are not large policing forces as there are in this part of the country and the settlements there are much smaller, further and fewer between. Even now, as isolated as this area may seem, we are only little over a day's journey in any direction from a large town."

Frowning, Rukhash regarded him with some skepticism. "Why would they go through all 'at damn trouble, callin' up a group a lads to search us out? I mean, my head can't be worth _that_  much."

"It is not so much the price of your head," Cadoc said, feeling uneasy by the thought. "Barmund, the leader of the band that attacked, saw us kissing that night. The rest of the men with him know about the nature of our relationship. Magistrate Halbard has dismissed his ravings publicly, but that is how Hedon guessed that we were together. There will be more animosity for what we are to one another than what  _you_ are."

Rukhash did not respond to that, but sat quietly with her half eaten fish laid across her lap. Cadoc wished he knew what was going through her mind. She stared at the low fire, thoughtful, a troubled expression on her face.

"Yer family weren't too happy about it," she said at last.

Cadoc chuckled humorlessly. "I think they were more concerned that they would never see me again, than they were worried by the fact that you are an orc," he told her.

"I overheard what Hedon told ya," she said, looking at him with a sad expression. "He said folks'll think yer evil, or somethin', fer bein' with me."

"The opinion of others has never troubled me," Cadoc replied evenly. "What  _does_  trouble me is the thought of loosing you. On the night we were attacked... when I saw what was done to you..." Cadoc swallowed roughly, his throat tight. "I could not bear to lose you, Rukhash. Not to an orc hunter's sword, and not to my own reluctance. It is why I am here with you now."

Wrapping her arm around his, Rukhash laid her head on Cadoc's shoulder. "I feel the same way," she told him quietly. "I were gonna suggest we stay over here for a bit ta catch a breather, but I won't ask 'at now. I just don't want ya hurtin' yerself, or makin' yerself sick on account a somethin' we can't be sure of. You don't know 'at anyone's after us."

"That is very true," Cadoc conceded, "but I would rather not take the risk, and be caught unaware out of carelessness."

Rukhash nodded and straitened, taking a thoughtful bite out of her breakfast. Cadoc followed suit in a daintier fashion, careful of the fine boned fish. They ate quietly. Cadoc was glad they had this discussion. He didn't want to keep her in the dark, but he didn't want her worrying over possibilities either. She was right, they may have no one trailing them, but Cadoc could not shake the vision of Rukhash covered in blood, being held to the chopping block while an axe was raised above her. Cadoc was very sure he would never forget that afternoon.

Regarding his breakfast with a thin smile, Cadoc decided to switch to a less distressing topic. "So," he said conversationally, "what is the orcish word for fish?"

Rukhash glanced at him with a raised brow, a slight smirk on her face. " _Poshak_ ," she told him.

" _Poshak_ ," Cadoc repeated. Though he felt his pronunciation was off, Rukhash nodded with an easy smile. "How would I say, 'thank you for breakfast'?"

Rukhash snorted. "We ain't got a word for 'thank you'," she informed him, "but, if you were keen on the fish, you could say,  _brogbizg poshak_  or, if ya wanted ta pay me a compliment for catchin' em, you could say,  _Rukhash sriz atsal_ or ya could just say, 'thanks'. Most every orc you'd meet would speak common."

"So..." Cadoc hesitated. He wanted to make sure he understood her correctly. "You would not thank someone, you would compliment their skill or the food they have caught."

"Ya," Rukhash said with an easy shrug, "somethin' like that, but you shouldn't go throwin' out compliments. You'll sound like you don't mean 'em."

"What would be an appropriate time to compliment someone, then?" he asked, fascinated. Cadoc knew that orcish society could not be as free and open as Rukhash let on. There had to be some societal rules involved.

"When you  _mean_  it," Rukhash answered, looking at him pointedly. "My folk don't go fer all them niceties. They ain't gonna like ya more cause yer well mannered an' polite. You say what you mean when ya mean it, or ya don't say nothin' at all. Only an idiot'd fall for obvious flattery.  _Globu kozut ghashanu âmbal_. If ya don't like someone, ya don't gotta pretend like ya like 'em. I mean, maybe if ya were lookin' ta be a chief of a big tribe one day, but I can't really see ya tryin' fer that. You ain't that sly."

"I beg your pardon?" Cadoc said, frowning. "I'll have you know, I led several companies of Rangers over the course of my tenure." He did not want to be chief of an orc tribe, but he was a little insulted that Rukhash thought he lacked the skill to lead.

"I ain't sayin' you ain't smart, Cadoc," Rukhash said with a sigh. She had risen from her seat next to him, and was repacking their knapsacks. "Yer real smart, an' I'm sure yer a good leader of  _Men_ , but bein' the chief of a orc tribe ain't the same thing. Look, my old chief, Naghúrz, he were a Captain, so 'e could lead a troop a soldiers, an he were chief of our clan, so he knew how ta lead a family, with breedin' girls an' young innit, but the chief of a  _tribe_  is loads different."

"A tribe chief," Rukhash continued, returning to her seat by his side, "he's gotta lead dozens a clans, so he gotta be in good with the clan leaders an' the loose warriors an'  _their_ leaders and  _then_ , he gotta be in good with the girls. If the clan females an' the warrior girls get together an' decide they don't like the bloke that's leadin' them, they'll either push him out or kill him outright. 'At's a hard fuckin' job, bein' chief of a tribe. It ain't easy holdin' so many clans together all peaceful-like. You gotta have a ton a clout behind ya. I just don't see  _you_  botherin' with all them tricky politics."

"An' really," Rukhash said with a serious look, "if 'at's somethin yer lookin' ta do, we need ta have a long talk, 'cause I don't want nothin' ta do with bein' a tribe chief's girl. I never had that much influence in a den, an' I really don't  _want_  that much influence in a den, never mind a whole fucking tribe."

"It  _isn't_  something I'm looking to do," Cadoc told her earnestly. Even if it didn't sound as complicated as it did, Cadoc would still not want to lead a tribe of orcs.

"Well," Rukhash said cheerfully, "that's fine then."

Smiling, Cadoc shook his head, a little overwhelmed. It seemed he still had a great deal to learn in terms of her people, and he might as well learn it now. He did not want _politeness_  to put him in an awkward situation. "So," Cadoc said, lifting the stick his breakfast was skewered on in the air, "what is the orcish word for stick?"

Rukhash laughed out loud. "It's  _ghru_ ," she snickered with a broad grin, "but be careful how ya use it, yeah? There could be a bad misunderstandin' if you tell some bloke ya like 'is 'stick'." Cadoc frowned and Rukhash laughed harder. She would explain the dirtier words to him later.

* * *

**Translations**

_Nar largizish foshân_ : "Don't baby me"

 _brogbizg poshak: "_ I like fish"

 _Rukhash sriz atsal:_  "Rukhash is a skilled catcher"

 _Globu kozut ghashanu âmbal_ : "Fools listen to pretty words"

 _ghru_ : stick, club, pole, vulgar word for an erect penis


	30. Relief

**Splint**

**Chapter Thirty: Relief**

_**AN:** Gonna be a bit of an arse this go around and request some reviews... I mean... if you''ve made it this far, I'm assuming that you are enjoying yourself.  Anyways... ;P [is selfish]_

* * *

Immersing himself in orcish helped Cadoc pass the time rather quickly, and helped him keep his mind off of the hovering threat of orc hunters on their trail. At Rukhash's insistence, they slowed their pace a little. She had made some good points in her argument. If they were attacked, he would not be good to anyone if he was worn down. It would be difficult to fight off an enemy and exhaustion.

So, Cadoc concentrated on learning more of Rukhash's tongue. She informed him that she was teaching him the Mordor dialect she had learned from her father. Cadoc asked if the Isengard language was much different. Rukhash laughed and nodded. "Loads," she told him. "It were some Angmar words an' some goblin words an' a little common mixed in. It were a fuckin' mess." However, considering there was no Isengard anymore, Rukhash told Cadoc he was better off going by the Mordor language she knew. "Not that there ain't a hundred fuckin' dialects," she amended, "but folks'll understand ya well enough, even if they don't know the version yer speaking all the way through. Common's best in them cases, really. All orcs know it, unless they's real isolated, an' since we was just all together fer a war, that shouldn't be the case."

"Why teach me you language at all, then?" Cadoc asked, confused by her enthusiasm despite the fact that he would be learning a half useful dialect.

"Well, it won't be  _un_ useful. If there's one thing 'at's universal, it's the curses, and it's mighty handy ta know if someone's talkin' shit on ya. Besides,"she added with a small, shy smile, "maybe I'd like ta speak it with ya." Cadoc smiled at that. He would also enjoy speaking with her in her own language, and perhaps he could teach her a little Sindarin if she was up for learning an elvish tongue. That was a language he missed when he wasn't in the company of other Rangers.

For the moment, though, Cadoc was focusing on orcish, which he found was not terribly complicated in structure or in vocabulary so much as it was complicated in context. Half of knowing Rukhash's language was understanding the interrelationships between groups and individuals. There seemed to be a million shades of gray, from outright hate to deep affection, for anyone from a parent to a stranger. Though Cadoc had a firm grasp of most words, and Rukhash had begun peppering their conversations with her tongue to help him practice, the finer intricacies of orcish kinship and varying liaisons still confused him to some extent. Over the past three weeks, since she began teaching him, Rukhash's lessons had become less and less about language and more about orcish customs and social conduct.

"So," Cadoc said, during another baffling instruction, as they walked along a narrow foot trail, "you are saying there really  _isn't_  a word for 'father' even though there is?"

"Well,  _nar_ , not really," Rukhash pursed her lips, thinking. "It's more like, some folk may translate  _krank_  as father, but I don't think I would. I mean, it can also mean ta' sire, like fatherin' young, but as a title, I think I'd be more like 'parent,' since  _kranklob_  is the word fer 'mother,' an' 'at don't make no sense, do it? 'Female father,'  _skai_ , 'at's just fucking stupid." Rukhash pushed a branch out of her way as they made their way through dense foliage.

"What did you call your father, then?" Cadoc asked, curious. Based on her recollections of him, Rukhash seemed far too attached to her father to call him 'parent.'

"I called 'im  _da_ ," Rukhash said with a laugh. "I told ya, sometimes there's some common mixed in. Males is weird when it comes ta sprogs. My dad, he liked bein' a dad, but Kragolnauk couldn't give two farts 'bout 'is girls. All my sisters 'at were his call 'im  _Krank_ , and 'e didn't give a shit, cause that's all 'e were ta them, but it woulda killed my poor dad if I called 'im that."

Rukhash paused as she hopped over a deep ditch and Cadoc followed after her. The forest they were currently traveling through was quite dense, but the heat today was almost oppressive, thick and humid. Cadoc quietly noted her labored breathing after such a small exertion. She seemed less hindered visually than when they passed over long, shadeless moors a few days before, holding her arm over her eyes to block the glaring sun, but she was a little more out of breath. "Now 'is sons," Rukhash added with a pointed look, "they all called 'im  _Krankizub_ , which is loads more respectful, an' probably closer ta 'father' 'en  _krank_."

Cadoc pondered that. "It is because  _izub_  is possesive?" he ventured and Rukhash nodded, wiping her brow. "So alone,  _krank_  is a general term, but  _krankizub_  shows possession and is more familiar, which would make it more respectful."

"Right!" Rukhash confirmed.

"And your mother?" Cadoc wondered.

"I called mum,  _mum_ , but I had a brother what called 'er  _kranklob_ , most a my sisters just called her  _klob_ , Bogdish," Rukhash snickered, "he called 'er  _klobbers_ , 'cause she were always beatin' the snot outta him. Mum thought 'at were hilarious. Oi, what a trouble maker 'e was."

Cadoc smiled at her fond expression. He imagined she and her brother were in the habit of making trouble together. "So, is  _klob_  a more affectionate title?" Cadoc guessed.

"I suppose it is," Rukhash said with a shrug. "It's definitely more familiar, an' at's how ya tell how close folks is, is by how familiar they are wit' each other. In words, 'at is. You could know some bloke like 'e were yer brother an' fucking hate him. Shit, I hated some a my actual brothers. Only called 'em by name if I 'ad ta, so's not to make mum cross. She didn't like me callin' 'em arseholes 're cock suckers. Used ta call Figar  _globthak._ Oi, mum hated that."

Rukhash smiled to herself, remembering all the nasty things she called her less admired siblings, but shook herself, giving Cadoc a pregnant look. "If I says, 'oi, you!,' or 'oi,  _tark_!' at's loads different from 'oi, Cadoc!' Ya know?"

"I think so," Cadoc replied uncertainly.

"My Rangmau, she never could decide what ta call me," Rukhash said with a far off, affectionate expression. "Always called Anbagûrz 'da', but sometimes she would call me mum an' sometimes she would call me  _klob_. Well, she would call me  _kyob,_  which ain't even a word. Had an adorable little lisp, 'at one. I mean, I woulda had ta break 'er of it eventually, but she were such a sweet lil' mite, I never could bring myself ta correct 'er about it." Rukhash grew silent and Cadoc glanced over at her where she walked by his side. She looked furious as her eyes welled up. "Shit," she hissed tightly as she wiped her wrists against her eyes. "I thought I were done with this."

Troubled by her tears, Cadoc wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his chest, laying his cheek against her crown. "You are  _allowed_  to miss your daughter, Rukhash," he told her. "She sounds like a darling child. I wish I could have met her."

Rukhash laughed, a bitter breathy sound, and pulled away from him, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. "My Cadoc," she sniffed with a teary, pained smile, "if she ever met ya, my Rangmau would've clawed yer face off." Cadoc stood there, stunned, while Rukhash walked on ahead, wiping her eyes miserably. It took a moment for him to regain his composure and hurry after her.

" _Gotlizish_ ," she said sourly as he drew alongside her.

"There is nothing you need to be forgiven for," he told her. " _I_  am sorry if I said something to offend you."

"It ain't nothin' like 'at," she said. "My life then, who I were an' what I taught my kids, that ain't who I is now. My Rangmau, she hated Men as much as me an' 'er father an' she were just a lil' sprog. She didn't have no reason ta be like 'at. We done 'at to 'er..." Rukhash glanced up towards him with a watery frown. "I were a bad mum."

"I seriously doubt that is true," Cadoc admonished. "I believe you were a very good mother. Your ideals were simply in a different place at the time. I am the last person who should chastise you for that. I told Holgar many frightening stories about orcs when he was a lad, and I have no doubt he looks unkindly at your people now because of that and because of my profession and his stepfather's profession."

Rukhash took a shuddering breath and adjusted her pack. "You mind if we take a rest?" she asked, looking up at the suddenly lacking shade above them. The trees were not as dense here, and the steady beating of the noonday sun on her hood was oppressive. It was beginning to make her feel a little sick. "Somewhere in the shade, eh? This sun's killin' me."

"Of course," Cadoc agreed. With a quick glance around, he led them off of the footpath towards a thicker cluster of oaks that formed a small, mossy circle in their center. They would be adequately concealed here, and if Rukhash wanted to remove her cloak and scarf, no one would be able to see her. Cadoc imagined she must be overheated. It was unnaturally warm for early April.

Rukhash shed her pack with one, easy shrug, unclasping her cloak at her neck and letting it fall directly on top. Cadoc laughed as she stretched out on the ground with a content purr, heedless of the bits of sticks and leaves. The cool moss was soft and pillowy underneath her, like a thick, green blanket, dry of condensation but damp enough to still be springy. Rukhash rested her head on her folded arms, deciding this was the best bed she'd had in a long while, even if it was a little lumpy underneath her. The space amidst the oaks was tight enough to feel intimate, but large enough for her and Cadoc to stretch out and fit their things comfortably. Rukhash hadn't felt so exhausted in all their time of travel. Between the burning sun and the ghost of her daughter, she felt heavy and drained.

"Good spot," she sighed appreciatively.

Cadoc smiled to himself and stretched out alongside her, nudging their packs behind him so he could lean against them. He brushed his knuckles along her damp brow and frowned. She was burning to the touch. "You should drink some water," he insisted, reaching behind him to pull the water bladder from its place on his pack.

Rukhash did not move her head from where it was nestled on her arms, but lifted her hand up for Cadoc to place the water skien in it. She took a long, thirsty drink, her eyes still shut, and passed it back before wriggling herself comfortable. "Sorry I were such a downer," she mumbled, half awake.

Cadoc tucked a few stray, damp hairs behind her pointed ear. "I want you to tell me if something is bothering you, Rukhash."

Cracking open a yellow eye, Rukhash glared at him. "You ain't always sharin' shit 'at bothers  _you_ ," she criticized. "Always think yer sparin' me a worry when all I do is worry 'bout you anyhow."

"Well," Cadoc laughed breathily, "I will try to amend that habit." Cadoc twisted around and pulled some traveling tack and dried meat and the other water skein from the packs behind him. He laid a loosely wrapped bundle near Rukhash's head. "You should eat some lunch before you fall asleep," he ordered.

The orcess snorted. "I'd yell at ya fer tellin' me what ta do, 'cept it sounds like yer gonna let me nap." Rukhash rolled on her side and propped her head on her hand, tossing open the white cloth wrapping the tack and meat.

"You might as well," Cadoc shrugged. "It is hot as midsummer today. If you are going to wear that hood, it would be better for us to travel at night. This area is fairly isolated. I believe there are only a few farmsteads to the North. Besides, you look like you are ready to pass out."

"Sun starts botherin' me round this time a year," she said with a gaping yawn. "Ain't so bad in the winter, what with how cloudy it always is, an' it's better ta be out in the daytime 'en, since it's so bitter at night, but it's harder ta handle when it's so hot an' bright out. I can thank my old dad fer that." She took a bite out of the tack and chased it with a long gulp of water.

"I was honestly surprised you could bear the daylight at all when I first met you," Cadoc admitted. "I suppose that would be your Uruk hai half."

"I got more from my mum 'en 'er good looks," Rukhash said with a roguish, fanged smirk.

After lunch, Cadoc tucked away their water and the empty wrappings and Rukhash tucked herself against his side, quickly falling asleep. When he pressed his palm to her forehead, Cadoc was relieved that she felt cool. He had been concerned for a moment that she might have been suffering from heat exhaustion, but a meal and a healthy amount of water seemed to do her a great deal of good.

Leaning his head back, Cadoc rested his eyes. A good deal of his anxiety had abated as the weeks wore on, and he wondered if his worrying was in vain. They would reach the Anduin in a little over two weeks, depending on how much the terrain slowed them down. East Lebennin consisted of mostly flat land, but they would come across rockier territory as they approached Ithilien. Cadoc's main concern was managing the river. They would not be able to cross at the fords further north, those areas were usually policed, and Cadoc doubted that Rukhash would be able to pass over the bridge and through the city of Pelagir unnoticed.

The largest issue with crossing the wide river between Western Gondor and South Ithilien was that Rukhash could not swim. She had confessed this to him when they reached the Gilrain, standing waist high in the cold river and looking anxiously past the white, churning water to the far shore. Cadoc had to float their packs across on a small raft before returning to help her manage across as well. She shivered fearfully as she gripped the hastily thatched together raft, her eyes wild and terrified as he swam her across. They were fortunate when they crossed the Sarnul to find a shallower area with large, slippery stones that formed a natural bridge. Rukhash had handled that with ease, removing her boots and hopping from rock to rock as gracefully as a wild goat in the high mountains. Cadoc had a much more difficult time with the slick stones, and ended up falling into the river and swimming across.

He had expected her to tease him about the high pitched shout he ushered before being swallowed up by the water. Her face had been anxious as he trudged onto shore, dripping wet and annoyed, and she hugged him fiercely, nearly in tears. She had explained her fear to him immediately. If he had struck his head or been overtaken by the water, she would not have been able to help him. Cadoc had promised to teach her to swim at a later date, when they were not in such dangerous territory.

The Anduin was easily twice as wide, if not more, as both the rivers they already crossed and endlessly deep. Wide barges were able to pass up it, bringing supplies and goods north to Minas Tirith. Cadoc still was not sure how they would manage it. He supposed they could construct a sturdier raft, but Rukhash's fear of deep water made him nervous about the entire ordeal.

Pulling the orcess a little closer against his side, Cadoc decided not to worry about the Anduin for now. Replacing one anxiety with another would not do him any good. The warm weather had also worn him down a bit, weighted under his pack as he was, and Cadoc dozed lightly while they waited for the heat of the day to abate.

* * *

A few hours passed while Cadoc alternated wakefulness and a light nap. Rukhash slept soundly next to him, her quiet breathing punctuated by the occasional rumble or growl. It was a quiet day, with stray birdsong and the twittering of squirrels in the trees above them. Cadoc was just beginning to drift off again when he became of a very quiet, very close, rustling beyond their grove. He shook Rukhash lightly as he released her and rose to his feet.

" _Gar_ ," she grumbled, rubbing her eyes. "What is it? Time ta go yet?" Her grogginess vanished when she looked up at Cadoc's wide eyed expression. Following his gaze to the edge of their little sanctuary, she came face to face with a young, pale haired boy. Rukhash couldn't tell how old he was, but he was definitely younger than Wulf. He took one look at her and started screaming.

Rukhash jumped to her feet, and the boy dashed off into the forest, yelling for his mother. With a startled look towards Cadoc, Rukhash threw on her cloak and scarf. She and Cadoc just finished tying up their packs as a pair of running footsteps approached their position. Rukhash hunkered down next to their things and Cadoc stood protectively between her and the light haired woman that appeared at the edge of the grove, gasping for air as she hesitated between two of the oaks, a short, wide blade in her hand. Her son stood directly behind her, clinging to her long, blue skirt.

"Who are you?" the woman demaned of Cadoc. Rukhash turned her head to shadow her face. Mostly hidden by their oversized rucksacks, she wrapped her hand around the hilt of the orcish blade in her boot. She would let Cadoc handle this situation as much as possible, but she wasn't opposed to killing this pair if it came to that. Rukhash did not fear the woman's tiny knife but the possibility of her spreading word of them would be trouble.

"That lady has a scary face!" the boy blurted out, pointing at Rukhash.

Cadoc firmed his jaw angrily. Though his sword was at his side, he did not want to appear threatening, so he squared his shoulders and held the woman's fearful gaze, trying to appear as docile as possible. Not everyone was quick to greet a Ranger, and some could no more distinguish their green cloaks from any other traveling attire. "We are just passing through," he said calmly, ignoring the boy's statement.

The woman looked from Cadoc, to Rukhash where she crouched, with a troubled expression. "And who is  _she_."

"My  _wife_ ," Cadoc replied easily.

"Oh," the woman stammered, lowering her knife, a startled look on her face. She stared at Rukhash in earnest then, and Cadoc shifted to shield the orcess from her scrutiny. "Well," the woman said, straitening and, again, finding her outrage, "what are you doing here?"

"We are on a long journey," Cadoc explained. "We stopped here to rest for a while. Have we trespassed on your property?"

Biting her lip, the woman leaned a little to the side, trying to see the quiet form of the orcess behind him better. "No," she said absently, and Cadoc wondered what she was thinking. He hoped she would leave her inquiries behind, and be on her way. He had no idea what he would do if she decided to confront him any more than she was. Cadoc suddenly wished he was a better liar. "Is your wife... well?"

Her son tugged anxiously at her skirt again. "Mom, it's a  _monster_ ," he whined.

Cadoc glared at the boy. "She is  _not_  a monster," he growled. Cadoc had a great fondness for children, but this boy tested his patience. He did not want to think how Rukhash must feel, being talked about in such a way. He was silently thankful that she had the presence of mind to hold her tongue. Her voice was decidedly inhuman, and might give her away. This woman's son had caught sight of her, but he was young, not much older than five or six, and his ranting might be easily brushed off by his mother.

"Why does your wife hide her face," the woman said with an air of suspicion. Her expression was suddenly marred with a thoughtful frown. "Is she disfigured in some way?" she asked, lowering her voice to a delicate whisper that Cadoc assumed was meant to soften the horrible bluntness of her statement.

He did not reply to her, but his glare was dark enough to convey his anger. Cadoc would not confirm or deny her assumption, but he could see the woman forming her own conclusions about his situation. A look of pity crossed her face, and Cadoc felt a wave of relief. He owed Rukhash an apology, but he secretly could not have hoped for a better outcome.

"Mom! I think she's an  _orc_!" the boy wheedled.

"Enough Garon! You should not say such things about people!" the woman scolded, batting at the boy's clutching hand before looking back towards Cadoc. "I'm... very sorry about my son," she said in a gentle, sympathetic tone. "Do you and your wife need shelter for the night? Our farm isn't far, and there's plenty of room in the barn."

With a steadying breath, Cadoc shook his head. "That is unnecessary. We must be on our way." Turning, Cadoc shouldered his pack before helping Rukhash with hers.

"Ma'am," the woman called to Rukhash's back. "I am terribly sorry." The orcess played along, shrugging silently and allowing Cadoc to usher her forward with a gentle hand on her back.

"That poor woman," Rukhash heard the  _tark_  woman mumble under her breath.

The woman stood at the edge of the grove staring at them poignantly as they exited from the opposite side, heading towards the small footpath. Once they had cleared the denser part of the forest, Cadoc glanced back towards the woman and her son, pleased to note they were also leaving, pointed in the opposite direction.

"I'm sorry, Rukhash," Cadoc said after they had put a good distance between themselves and the grove. He hoped she was not angry that he did not take a firmer tone with the boy for his insults.

Rukhash glanced up at him with a smirk, her yellow eyes amused. "I'm just glad that  _globlob_  were so soft headed," she snickered. "She spared me some trouble."

Cadoc shook his head ruefully, relieved that she was not holding a grudge. "We were very lucky," he said.

* * *

**Translations**

_globthak: shit face_

_gotlizish: forgive me_

_globlob: foolish woman_


	31. Desires

**Splint**

**Chapter Thirty-One: Desires**

_**AN:** _ _And with this upload, we are caught up with my posting on fanfiction.net._

_Some of you will hate me for the ending of this, since I will probably not get to the next chapter for another month._

_This chapter is probably Not Safe For Work. Fair warning..._

* * *

"I'm glad that you think this is so funny," Cadoc said sourly.

Rukhash covered her mouth with both hands. Her snickering hissed through her fingers. "It ain't funny," she agreed with a snort, her words muffled by her palms. Cadoc had snared a hare, just to have it piss down his front when he lifted it, wriggling, by the noose around its ankle. Now a long trail of urine stained his outer vest and undershirt. He looked furious, which only added to Rukhash's amusement. She didn't know rabbit bladders held so much water.

With a long suffering sigh, Cadoc quickly slit the animal's throat and held it out towards her. "Do you mind taking care of our supper while I change my shirt?"

The orcess retrieved the hare from him with an indulgent smile and went about skinning the small creature while Cadoc rustled through his pack. She cast a fond glance in his direction when she heard him grumble under his breath after he changed into a new undershirt, annoyed that his pack would carry the odor until he could wash his clothes. He was so fussy! She had begun to find it quite adorable. For a man that spent so much time in the wilderness, he certainly liked to keep up appearances. Rukhash sometimes wondered if this was for her benefit, since they were traveling as a pair; if he would be less fastidious without her around. Rukhash tried to imagine him behaving anything less than dignified and found that she couldn't. She could think of no situation, short of impending peril, in which he would continue on with a shirt covered in rabbit piss.

"I got somethin' 'at'll cover the smell," she told him lightly. She had no desire to see him suffer, after all, nor did she relish his pack reeking until they found a stream for washing. Rukhash frowned at that thought and wondered if some of his fussiness was rubbing off on her.

She pulled a small, clay bottle from the bottom of her pack, giving it a little shake. There was not much pine oil left, but it should be enough to tend Cadoc's clothes. Uncorking the stopper, Rukhash handed the bottle to him. "Just dab it on," she instructed as Cadoc sniffed the contents curiously. "Might stain the undershirt, since it's light," she added.

With an amused smile, Cadoc pressed the soiled fabric to the mouth of the bottle and tipped it over. "It's a bit too late to worry about that," he said lightly, his tone playful. Rukhash giggled and went back to spitting their supper. At least his shirt had been well avenged.

The terrain had become increasingly rockier as they approached the large river. Cadoc informed her that they would arrive at the Anduin by the next day. A part of Rukhash was anxious about this, but Cadoc had smiled through her concern and assured her they would build a sturdy little raft to cross. Tonight they had found shelter among a small outcropping of rocks that formed a rough cavernous area that hid their fire. The days continued to be warm, but the nights dropped to frigid temperatures in the higher elevation, and Rukhash was glad the heavily wooded area and their stone shelter would allow them to build up the fire a little higher than usual. More coverage meant an intimate evening as well. Cadoc was usually more relaxed when they were well secluded. Rukhash glanced up at him, a predatory gleam in her eye. He was scrubbing the pine oil into his shirt, sniffing it to make sure the scent was covering. A soft feeling gentled her desire, and Rukhash smiled at his profile. She would wait until after they ate to bugger him.

After he finished treating his shirts, Cadoc carefully wrapped them in a small, spare cloth and tucked them into the pocket in his pack where he kept his more gamey clothing. His fresh laundry was running low. They would have to make a stop once they crossed the Anduin to freshen up their things. So far, their trip had been blissfully quiet, aside from the stray traveler crossing paths with them when Cadoc conceded to take the main road to hasten their pace. Cadoc breathed an inward sigh of relief at that. Once in Ithilien, it would be far easier to avoid people all together.

Rukhash halved the roasted rabbit just as Cadoc finished reorganizing his knapsack. She handed him his half with a subtle half smile as he returned her bottle to her. There was still a little oil left at the bottom. "Thank you," he said as they traded.

"Yea, yea," Rukhash replied lightly, setting the bottle aside before biting into her dinner. "Jus' tryin' ta be a good lil wifey fer ya," she said with an amused smirk.

She had brought up Cadoc's casual reference numerous times since their interaction with the woman in the grove, usually to tease him about it. Normally he would let her comment slide, but a part of him was curious as to how she felt about it. "Are you annoyed that I referred to you as my wife?" he asked. "I realize it is not what orcs call their significant other."

Rukhash stopped chewing and regarded him quietly. " _Nar_ ," she finally said with a sheepish smile, glancing towards the ground to avoid eye contact with him, "Can't say I've ever been a  _wife_  afore. I kinda like the sound a it." If Cadoc didn't know better, he would swear that she was blushing. "Except, I don't know..." she added thoughtfully. "Is there somethin' wives is supposed ta do 'at I wouldn't know about?"

Actually, that brought up a topic Cadoc  _did_ want to speak to her on, but couldn't find the right way to go about having that particular conversation. He knew that her people regarded relations in a much more casual manner than Men, but Cadoc would not be able to share her in such a way. It would be a gross break in his own ideals, even if that road went both ways.

"There is something..." he began awkwardly, and Cadoc could feel his face warm. Deciding straight forwardness would be the best tactic, Cadoc blurted it out quickly. "Rukhash, I know it is a common practice for orcs to have many partners, but I would prefer if we could remain exclusive to one another." Rukhash stared at him blankly, blinking, and Cadoc wished he had brought this up much sooner. It might have affected her initial decision to remain with him.

"I figured that," she said simply, and Cadoc felt a wave of relief wash over him. He should have known she would be intuitive about such a thing. "It didn't seem like the way yer folks go about things, anyhow," she added. "I don't mind stayin' away from other lads."

Frowning, Cadoc was uncomfortable with how specific she was being. If there was one thing he had learned about orcish speech patterns, or at least, Rukhash's speech pattern, it was that wording and specificity and  _omission_  were very important concerning what she considered a truth and a lie. "And other  _women_ ," Cadoc added for her, his voice tight.

"I don't think we'll come across many  _women_  in a den," Rukhash replied with a cheeky smirk.

"You know I mean  _orc_  women," Cadoc said, growing annoyed. "I would ask you, as my wife, to be faithful to me in  _all_  regards."

Rukhash looked affronted by that statement. "Oi," she barked, "course I'll be faithful, but what's the big deal 'bout other girls? Thought you might like ta watch. Most lads seem to, at any rate."

"Rukhash," Cadoc pinched his nose, "sleeping with other women is the same to me as if you had slept with another male."

"Well," Rukhash looked thoughtful, "I wouldn't mind if you slept with other girls too. I mean, if you think 'at's more fair."

Releasing a long breath from his nose, Cadoc steadied his nerve. He would not lose his patience, and at the moment, he wasn't sure if she was being serious or not. "I cannot divorce my feelings from a physical relationship as you can," he explained.

"It's bein' kind a selfish, don't you think?" she growled, and Cadoc realized that she  _had_  been serious. "Sayin' I can't have no one else but you!  _Sha_! How's 'at fair at all? You'd be the dad to all my kids, so what's the difference?"

Pushing down the fury that rose in him at her callousness, Cadoc searched for the right thing to say to make his point more clear. He knew losing his temper, since she already seemed to be losing hers, would not help his case. Approaching the matter from a moral standpoint was useless, since orcs obviously had much looser morals concerning sex, but something she had mentioned to him all those months ago when they discussed mates and  _shaûk_  came to his mind.

"I am not trying to be selfish," he told her as calmly as he was able. "You told me once, that if you had asked Anbagûrz not to sleep with other women, that he would have honored your request, and that is what I am asking of you now." A thoughtful look crossed her face, and Cadoc pressed on, willing her to understand his position. "Rukhash, do you understand that knowing you are going to someone else to fulfill that need is insulting to me? It makes me feel as if I am not pleasing you in some way, and that is extremely hurtful."

Frowning, Rukhash picked at her dinner thoughtfully. "Well," she said quietly, "I wouldn't do it ta be hurtful. It's just... it helps smooth things along, you know, if we were tryin' ta get in good with a clan. Screwin' around like that... it's normal, but it wouldn't mean 'at someone else meant more ta me 'an you do! Yer my  _shaûk_ , Cadoc. You'd always come first."

"You are telling me that sleeping with other females is something you  _have_  to do?" Cadoc asked darkly.

"Well... no," she said in a tiny voice. "I guess I could be friendly and not be  _that_  friendly."

" _Am_  I lacking in some way?" Cadoc asked her, concerned now. "Is there something that I am not doing that you wish I were? Some preference that you have that you don't think I can fulfill?" Rukhash opened and shut her mouth, and Cadoc did feel anxious then. He thought their lovemaking was remarkably  _good_. Aside from a few rough spots early on, he felt as though they had built up a good repertoire when it came to intimacy.

"I wouldn't say yer  _lacking_ ," Rukhash told him, swallowing roughly. "It just at... shit Cadoc, yer awful  _gentle_  all the time, an' I like 'at, I do, cause it's real respectful an' nice an' all that, but I wouldn't mind if you were a bit rougher once in a while. I mean, not like 'at one time, I know ya don't like hittin' an' shit an' I wouldn't like somethin' that you didn't like doin', but, you know, like that time we was real rushed about it. Up against the tree? I really liked that, an' I wouldn't mind more of it."

"Why did you never mention this before?" he asked, a little amazed that she had kept this to herself. Rukhash had never been tight lipped about her preferences. It was one reason why Cadoc felt he had been doing so well in that area.

Shrugging, Rukhash took another small bite from her supper and chewed thoughtfully before answering him. "You ain't the easiest to talk to about when it comes ta this shit," she said at last. "You should see how damn red you are right now, and you was real insulted when I told ya how I like ta be licked about my nethers, like you thought I should be happy with what ya knew already."

Now, Cadoc was sure his face looked like a beet. When they first began sleeping together, his oral skills had not been up to snuff, in her opinion, and he had been insulted when she told him so. Still, he had taken her criticism to heart, and he felt that he had made major improvements in that area. "I thought I had gotten remarkably better at that," he said defensively.

"Loads," she told him emphatically. "I ain't complainin' about that, am I? But you was still right angry when I brought it up, and I didn't want ta start another fight. Not  _now,_ especially. I don't get what the big deal is, Cadoc. Yer a good  _shaûk_  ta me and a strong lad and real good in bed, but ther'll always be things 'at I prefer that you won't, wouldn't there? I mean, that's why you have lots a partners, so you can get yer rocks off however you like, but 'at don't change what you mean ta me."

Rubbing his face, Cadoc shifted to cross his legs and pressed his lips to his folded hands. His appetite had left him completely, and his half eaten meat sat abandoned on a nearby stone. Rukhash continued eating, quietly avoiding his gaze. Cadoc was silent for a long while, hurt that she was unhappy with him in this way, and that she couldn't understand why he would demand her fidelity. For her part, Rukhash looked as unhappy with the conversation as he felt.

"Cadoc," she said, breaking the awkward silence. "I promise it'll just be you an' no one else." Rukhash looked at him then, serious and genuine. "You ain't lacking," she continued. "That other shit I like, the biting an' the scratching an' shit, that ain't a big deal. It's  _fun_ , but it ain't the same as when I'm with you. When I'm with you it's like I'm something precious, like I'm the only thing 'at matters an'... I don't know... I don't think anyone's ever been with me like 'at, not even Anba." Rukhash put aside what was left of her supper and moved to sit alongside him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him to her chest. Cadoc leaned into her stiffly, still feeling sore by their conversation. "Yer my Cadoc," Rukhash said softly, pressing her cheek to his head. "I don't want ya ta be no one else but that, an' if it'll hurt ya fer me ta screw around 'en I ain't gonna screw around. It isn't important, and I don't wanna make you sad."

"Don't be mad at me," she whispered desperately, hugging him a little tighter. "I shoulda never tried ta press it."

Cadoc pulled her into his lap and wrapped her in his arms, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'm not mad at you," he told her. "I just wish I knew you were so unhappy."

" _Gar_ ," she grumbled, "who's unhappy? If I didn't want ta fuck ya then why've we been fucking so damn much?  _Sha_ , Cadoc, I wouldn't want you fer a  _shaûk_  if I didn't enjoy what you did in the sack! I just got some tastes 'at you don't have. It ain't an issue."

"I will try to be more spontaneous," he said frankly, "if that is something you like."

"Who said anythin' about spontaneous?" Rukhash scoffed. "Yer plenty spontaneous."

Cadoc frowned, remembering the particular encounter she had mentioned earlier. He had apologized profusely afterwards, feeling horrible, when he saw the condition of her bare back, raw from being pressed into the bark. "I was worried I had hurt you," he said, concerned. "You were badly scratched up."

Rukhash sighed, and laid her head on his shoulder. "You did hurt me," she said quietly. "That's why I liked it."

Cadoc said nothing to that and Rukhash sat up to look him in the eye. He could not deny his troubled feelings at that admission. "I don't have it in me to hurt you," he whispered hoarsely, cupping her face in his hand. "You are important to me, Rukhash. It worries me to know that I  _did_  hurt you. You said you were fine."

"I  _were_  fine," she huffed, gesturing with frustration. "Cadoc, it ain't that I wanna be really hurt, like, injured fer serious. I don't know what ta tell you. The smell of blood an' a little panic, it riles me up. I don't expect you ta understand it."

"I  _don't_  understand it," he said, uncomfortable with her statement. Cadoc realized there were some things about her that he would never understand, no matter how much he tried.

Rukhash frowned and shifted in his lap, pulling his hands so they rested on her thighs. She glanced up at him with a small, quirky smile that Cadoc felt looked far too playful in light of their conversation. "Is there anythin' you'd want  _me_  ta do?" she asked him, a dangerous gleam in her eye. "Somethin' at you'd be interested in 'at we ain't done?"

Clearing his throat, Cadoc shook his head. "Not that I can think of."

Frowning, Rukhash glared at him. "Nothin," she said, unconvinced. "Yer perfectly fine with everythin' just the way it is with no change at all."

"I wish you did not want me to harm you," Cadoc said flatly.

Huffing, Rukhash shook her head. "Well I can't help what I  _want_ , but I told you it ain't an issue. What I'd want more is you happy. There really ain't nothin'?"

Watching Cadoc's face turn red, Rukhash smiled. "There  _is_  somethin'," she said, feeling justified. They should have had this conversation a long time ago, as far as Rukhash was concerned. She knew he had to have preferences that he wasn't voicing because he was too embarrassed. Rukhash didn't want to be the needy one when it came to coupling, and she didn't want Cadoc to feel bad for not wanting to be rough with her.

"So," Rukhash said, smiling at Cadoc's uncomfortable expression. "What is it, then?"

"It isn't anything..." Cadoc trailed off, avoiding her gaze.

With a growl, Rukhash half rose and shifted her position to straddle his lap. She put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a firm shake. "Yer gonna fuckin' kill me, actin' like some blushin'  _virgin_ ," she said, frustrated. "We should have talks like this! We been goin' at it fer a while now, and knowin' each others boundaries 're improtant. Me an Anba would have talks like this all the damn time, since I were so young when we was together, an' he were so much fuckin' bigger 'en me. So spit it out! What is it?" Granted, her conversations with Anbagûrz were much more perfunctory, but talking to him about what he enjoyed had not been the equivalent of pulling teeth.

"Rukhash, it really isn't..." Cadoc paused at the sound of the low, feral growl in her throat. She was glaring at him as though he had just committed some grievous offense, her ears pinned back in anger. "It isn't anything all that important," Cadoc frowned as her growl rose in volume. "It's just, if you felt like it..." the rest of Cadoc's sentence was so low, Rukhash almost rolled her eyes. He was being so silly!

"What's 'at?" she said, teasing, "you want up my arse?"

"What?" Cadoc nearly choked. " _No_. I did  _not_  say that."

"Well, you need ta speak up," Rukhash said primly, tossing her nose in the air and crossing her arms, "my hearin' ain't  _that_  good." Her hearing  _was_  that good, actually. She had heard every word, but he was a man twice her age! He should be able to say such things out loud to her, especially since it was just the two of them here.

"I said," he replied uneasily, "that I wouldn't mind if you used your mouth on me in the same way I do on you."

"You want me ta suck yer todger," she said with an amused smile. Cadoc grunted, frustrated, and said nothing in reply. It was hard for him to talk to her when she was being so flippant about things he regarded with great seriousness.

"Oi, my Cadoc," she said, her expression thoughtful, "I ain't makin' fun a you fer it. I just thought you didn't want me to. You know, that first time I tried at it, you looked like you were gonna run outta the room screamin'."

"That is being overly dramatic," Cadoc said dryly. "I asked you to stop because I was anxious of your teeth."

"My teeth?" Rukhash ran her tongue along her sharp canines thoughtfully. "What for?"

"They are quite sharp," Cadoc said with a pointed look.

"So wha- oh!" Rukhash shook her head emphatically, covering her mouth in horror. She would never even  _think_  of doing such a thing to him. "Cadoc, I'd never bite yer todger. I like yer todger! At'd be real fucked up on my part if I done somethin' like that. Shit, I wouldn't want yer teeth on my quim, no matter how blunt they is! 'At's fuckin' queerer then queer." Her expression was so ernest that Cadoc nearly laughed out loud. Apparently, even Rukhash had her limits. Not that those were limits Cadoc had any desire to approach, but somehow, it was good to know they existed.

"That's it then?" she asked, sounding a little disappointed.

Cadoc shrugged helplessly. His tastes had always been on the simpler side. "Only if you want to," he emphasized. "I know that is something women do not care to do."

"Says who?" Rukhash said darkly, as if those women had somehow insulted her, and she intended to seek revenge on them. "Is 'at some stupid troll shit that idiot ex-wife a yers fed ta you? Cause I like it just fine, ya know. That bint don't speak fer every girl."

Grunting uncomfortably, Cadoc shook his head. "It is just something that I assumed, I suppose. Ingrid and I never had such discussions." Cadoc's eyes darted to the side, staring at something far away. "Perhaps that is why she sought such attention elsewhere. I was most likely not pleasing  _her_  either."

An anxious feeling settled in Rukhash's belly. She was not entirely clued in on the particulars of Cadoc's divorce. She didn't feel it was her place to ask him about such things, so all she knew of it was what Cadoc cared to share with her. He had always insisted it was his fault somehow, that he had been gone too often or hadn't paid his wife much attention. Rukhash wasn't sure how that was true, since Cadoc seemed plenty attentive towards  _her_. He had an understanding, gentle way about him that Rukhash appreciated. She knew the differences between them bothered him sometimes, but he still tried to understand those differences. Rukhash was trying to understand those differences herself; such as Cadoc's desire for monogamy.

Rukhash always knew he regarded intimacy more seriously than her, but now she realized he viewed external relations as a betrayal as well, and the first priority to a  _shaûk_  was loyalty. Every orc knew that, and if that was how he felt about fooling around then she wouldn't fool around on him, end of story. From the sound of things, his former wife had betrayed him in a fundamental way, and that was an unforgivable offense. A  _shaûk_  shouldn't push the boundaries of their partner beyond what was acceptable, to the point of causing them pain, either emotional or physical. That would betray the trust inherent in such a relationship. Rukhash hated the idea of anyone causing Cadoc injury.

"She screwed around on you," Rukhash said darkly, "when you wasn't home?" Cadoc nodded quietly, and she could feel the old hurt well up in him. "With that fuckin'  _bastard_?" she hissed. Rukash never realized Baladnor had hurt Cadoc as well. She suddenly regretted the cure she gave him. How could Cadoc be proud of her for sparing the man that took his woman from him? There were times he baffled her utterly.

"It is many years in the past," Cadoc whispered. "I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

Nodding solemnly, Rukhash wrapped her long arms around his neck and pulled him close. "I'm plenty pleased with you just the way you are," she told him, nuzzling his ear, "but I'm glad we had this talk. It's good ta air yer griefs, Cadoc. I won't betray ya, I promise. No lads, no girls, yer plenty fer me, I  _swear_  it."

Much to her dismay, Cadoc did not return her embrace. "Ingrid swore to me as well," he said darkly.

"Don't you dare compare me ta her!" Rukhash growled, insulted. "I'd never compare ya to Anba like 'at. You two ain't the same person and I ain't the same as  _her_."

With a sigh, Cadoc pulled her into his arms, tucking his head against the warm thud of her pulse. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

" _Gar_ ," Rukhash rumbled, "you an' yer sorries. You don't gotta be sorry for feelin' how ya feel. Just know that I wouldn't do ya dirty like 'at." Rukhash glanced slyly towards Cadoc's uneaten portion and pressed her lips against his in a quick, chaste kiss. "You finish yer supper,  _shaûkizub_ , an' I'm gonna do somethin' nice fer ya."

"Oh?" Cadoc said with a raised brow, somewhat suspicious. "What exactly?"

"Don't you worry," she told him primly as she rose from his lap and wandered to where their rucksacks sat next to their bedding. "Just gonna have a check around outside first ta make sure we're good an' alone," she said as she rifled through her pack. "I'll be right back. You eat an' relax." Cadoc watched her tuck something under her arm before throwing on her cloak. With a bright smile in his direction, she slipped through the narrow crack in the rocks that surrounded them and disappeared into the gathering night.

Cadoc glanced askew at the half eaten meal next to him. The meat was probably cold by now, and he was not very hungry anyway. He did not feel particularly lustful at the moment, either, though he realized Rukhash was looking to solicit him when she returned. When they had set up camp here, he had been looking forward to an intimate evening, but the conversation they just had left him feeling cold. Nothing cooled his ardor quicker than thinking about his failed marraige. Cadoc wondered if there was a polite way to turn Rukhash down when they had just discussed trying to please each other in bed.

There was no reason for him to feel shamed by a discussion like the one they just had, but that was how he felt: embarrassed and troubled. Cadoc realized that Rukhash had many partners before him, and Cadoc was, by no means, a  _blushing virgin_ , as she suggested. He hadn't been a virgin since he was a young lad on his first patrol in Ithilien. Cadoc smiled and shook his head, wondering if that young tavern girl remembered him as fondly as he remembered her.

Cadoc had never cared for trivial things like purity in a woman. Ingrid had not been a maid when he married her, though she was much younger than him, and Cadoc hadn't given it a second thought. He was not a high born nobleman who might demand the maidenhead of a young bride. He was a lowly peasant of mixed heritage; his only virtue of birth being the long line of rangers that he sprung from. Such matters were beyond his care or concern. Though, he did regard relations with some measure of seriousness. Many men he had met over the years didn't. They bragged of their conquests in a way that Cadoc found distasteful, but Cadoc had been raised by a stern single mother and been older brother to a beloved younger sister. He could not regard the opposite sex so flippantly or with such disregard.

Rukhash was just so... coarse. So profane about things that Cadoc was used to regarding as cherished. He understood that she viewed relationships and intimacy in a different light than he did, but there were times that her irreverence was frustrating. To speak so plainly of such private matters left Cadoc nearly speechless with humiliation, but she was right to do so in this instance, and he had started the conversation in the first place. Cadoc frowned as he rose from his seat and went to the bedrolls to remove his boots and leave them by the far wall.

They had been sleeping together for a good while now, and it was wise to discuss such things with her. Rukhash's promise to remain faithful to him was a great relief in many ways, but knowing that she found their intimacy lacking was worrisome. Ingrid had not outright accused him of something similar before their divorce, but she had certainly implied it with her affair. Cadoc simply did not think he could do what Rukhash asked of him, or rather, what she felt that she needed. She had been clear enough concerning the fact that she did not expect him to act upon her desires, and that troubled him most of all. That she didn't believe him capable of pleasing her.

But they were troubling desires. A rough hand and blood and panic? When Cadoc thought of expressing his love for her, it was not in that way.

Cadoc stretched out on their bedrolls, feeling exhausted. He was dimly aware of a soft rustling at the cave entrance and he cracked an eye open in time to see Rukhash sneak inside. She still wore her cloak, but her clothes were rolled up in her arms. Cadoc inwardly groaned, and hated himself for it. He should be flattered that she was so attracted to him, but right now he felt as though he could sleep for a hundred years.

The expression on her face was not as lecherous as he expected. She looked contrite as she drew alongside him and placed her tunic and boots near their packs. She threw off her cloak, and Cadoc's brow rose. He had honestly expected her to be naked underneath, that certainly would have suited her suggestive comment earlier. Instead she wore one of Edda's dresses, the blue one he liked, and her hair was tied back in a loose horse tail.

Rukhash's eyes roamed over him with a knowing look. "You ain't feelin' up fer it," she said quietly, placing her hand on his chest as she drew her legs underneath herself.

Cadoc covered her thin clawed hand with his own and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said simply, annoyed with himself for disappointing her. "You look lovely," he offered lamely, and Rukhash graced him with a gentle smile.

"Still would like ta do somethin' fer ya, if you'll let me?" she asked. Cadoc did not wish to deny her anything, so he nodded quietly. She didn't seem particularly randy, and he was curious as to what she was planning.

Rukhash smiled broadly. "Take off yer shirt an' roll over," she ordered with a grin, and Cadoc's brow rose. Perhaps she was not being as understanding as he thought. "Well," she said with gentle urging, "go on. I ain't plannin ta ravish ya 'r nothin."

Suspicious but intrigued, Cadoc sat up, eyeing her warily. He pulled off his shirt, baring himself to the waist, and rolled on his stomach, laying his head on his arms. He felt the soft texture of her dress brush against his bare side and heard her rubbing her hands together roughly. Then, her palms were on his back, slick with some sort of light smelling oil, and she proceeded to knead the muscles in his shoulders. Cadoc let out an inarticulate grunt as she focused her attention on one of the tighter areas.

"Yer a nest of knots," she rumbled as she dug her knuckle into the space between his shoulder blade and neck. Cadoc could not help the quiet moan that escaped him as he felt the muscle quiver and relax. He had no idea she was so good at this. As Rukhash worked her way down his back, manipulating his tension to relax, Cadoc wondered where she had learned such a skill, but decided not to ruin the moment by asking her. Occasionally she would wander towards the old scars he knew were there, remnants of battles long past, many against her own people. She didn't ask about them, but her claw would stray lightly over the area before she continued down and Cadoc wondered what she was thinking. If, perhaps, she suspected where they came from.

He noticed that she lingered longest over the scratches she'd given him, the stitches roughly healed to a set of raised scars along his shoulder blade.

By the time she reached his lower back, Cadoc was sure he had been reduced to a puddle. Rukhash twisted the heel of her hand into the hard triangle of muscles near his waist and he groaned quietly. Somehow, in the course of her ministrations he had become mildly aroused, and the sensation of the stress there being released by the firm pressure of her hand only seemed to make it worse. He wondered if this had been her plan all along, but found he couldn't be angry at her for it. If she had been trying to persuade him, to get his mind off of the more troubling aspects of their conversation, then she had more than adequately succeeded in that.

With a light touch, Rukhash urged him to roll over again. She bent down to catch his mouth with hers. "Feel better?" she asked with a knowing smirk as her hand drifted to fondle him through his breeches, her palm pressing to cup him intimately.

Cadoc laughed, a breathy, exasperated sound. "You make it hard to tell you 'no',"

Frowning, Rukhash removed her hand and laid it on his chest. She looked confused. "You want that I should stop?" At this point, he really didn't. Cadoc shook his head silently and a slow, pleased smile formed on Rukhash's face. "Good," she purred, "cause I ain't done wit' you." He moved to reach for her and Rukhash batted his hand away. "Just stay where you are," she laughed and proceeded to undo the ties to his breeches. Cadoc watched, wide eyed, as she freed him from his pants and leaned over to take him into her mouth.

His head fell back and he sucked a breath of air in through his teeth as she began manipulating him with her mouth. Slowly dragging her lips along his manhood, pausing occasionally to swirl her rough tongue along the tip. He groaned loudly as her hand cupped him, and the added stimulation made his face grow hot. She was being tortuously slow, and Cadoc lifted his head to the erotic sight of Rukhash laying along the length of his body, still dressed in the blue dress he liked, her head bobbing slowly as she took in the length of him. She was breathing almost as quickly as he was, her bright, predatory eyes open and staring at his flushed face hungrily.

She began growling low in her throat, and Cadoc choked out a hoarse shout of pleasure before letting his head fall back again, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. As she hastened her pace, he realized she intended to finish him this way, and felt a pang of guilt before the sensation of her rumbling throat and the hot wetness of her mouth and the deft movements of her hand ceased all further, coherent thought. He was writhing, a breath away from release, and was barely able to call out to her before he came hard. Rukhash took this in stride, stilling her movements and sucking on him softly until he had finished. Cadoc was dimly aware of her covering him back up, tying his breeches and swiveling to lay alongside him. She rested her head on his shoulder while he caught his breath, running her claws lightly though the hair on his chest while his heart slowed.

Cadoc pulled her gently against his side. While he felt his voice had returned, he had no idea what to say to her. 'Thank you' seemed highly understated at a time like this. " _Rukhashizub kul tor_ ," he whispered into her hair and felt her smile against his shoulder.

Pulling herself up to look him in the eye, she kissed him soundly on the lips. "I'm such a fuckin' arsehole," she told him quietly. "I just open my mouth an' shit comes out an' I don't think a it. I'm sorry I made ya feel bad."

"That is certainly the best apology I've ever been given," Cadoc said honestly, a small smile on his mouth.

Snickering, Rukhash twirled his dark hair around her finger, her lower lip caught in her teeth. "'At's what a good little wife does, yeah? Makes 'er man happy." Rukhash regarded him with a serious face. "I wanna be a good wife to ya Cadoc, a good  _shaûk_. There's some things in me, some a the rougher things, 'at I can't make different, even if I cared ta try. I'm sorry if they make ya upset."

"I don't want you to change for me, Rukhash," Cadoc told her. "I've said so to you already. I want to know what makes  _you_  happy. I want to be a good husband to you."

Fixing him with a watery smile, she embraced him fiercely. "You already are," she said hoarsely. "Yer perfect just how ya is. I wouldn't want ta change you fer nothin.'"

Cadoc felt his throat tighten, but swallowed it down. Had Ingrid ever said such a thing to him? Perhaps, in those first blissful years of their marriage, but there were many more years of indifference and pain in between then and now, and Cadoc could not remember that kind of acceptance from her. Certainly, she had never done for him what Rukhash just did. That, he would have remembered. "I feel bad," Cadoc said, once his moment of emotion had passed, "that you remain unfulfilled. I know you were looking forward to tonight."

Rukhash snorted and leaned back, an impish look back on her face. "That were just fer you," she said at last with a slow smile. "Yer always so worried about everything but you, I thought you deserved it." She worried her lip between her teeth and regarded him for a moment. Cadoc raised his brow, wondering what was going through her mind. She seemed in an awfully playful mood, but whatever she was considering gave her pause. "Though, I was thinkin'," she added in a small voice. "Maybe I could take care a myself, an' you could watch? I mean, if you'd like. I don't want ya to get all uncomfortable after I went through all the trouble a gettin' ya relaxed."

Cadoc blinked dumbly at that. "You... don't want me to do anything?"

Shrugging lightly, her smile widened. "If you want you could," she said, "but you don't gotta. You could just  _watch_."

Though it was easily the most unconventional proposition he had ever been faced with, it was also extremely arousing. He had honestly doubted that women engaged in such activities at all. Despite the fact that such a thing might be viewed as deviant by conventional morality Cadoc would seriously doubt his manhood if he did not admit that the thought of watching his lover pleasure herself did not turn him on in some way.

Feeling adventurous, but not trusting his voice, Cadoc propped himself on his side, nodding quietly and Rukhash grinned, leaning up to catch his mouth in a deep, lingering kiss. She threaded one hand in his as she did this, and Cadoc caught the movement of her other hand out of the corner of his eye, as she pulled her skirt up around her waist.

Her hand dipped between her legs, and Cadoc's mouth went dry as she parted the red folds of her sex, mewling quietly while she stroked herself. The hand clasped with his tightened, drawing his attention to her face. Her gaze was on him, her pupils round and dark, hiding the yellow of her irises, and her lips parted slightly as she panted hungrily. He caught the barest whisper of his name on her lips as she pressed the heel of her hand against the knot of pleasure between her thighs, eyes rolling back and closing, and Cadoc felt his erection return in earnest. He wanted her badly, but was afraid to stop what she was doing. Cadoc was very sure he had never seen anything as beautiful as Rukhash bringing herself to an orgasm. She shuddered, a blissful, pleased smile on her face, and, growling low in her throat, removed her hand from its place between her legs to draw his mouth to her again.

He returned her desire tenfold, deepening the kiss and grinding his erection into her hip. Whether out of laziness or foreknowledge, Rukhash had not retied his breeches tightly, and Cadoc undid them easily, kicking off his pants and covering her body in one, smooth motion. He had not felt this desperate for her since their first time together, and he decided to use that desperation to his advantage. He wanted to please her as much as she had pleased him. So, where he normally would restrain himself, he thrust into her with abandon, losing himself in her body, and she returned his force with her own, bucking against him with wild, passionate snarls. Her claws pricked at his back, but Cadoc barely noticed as he altered his angle and pressed his teeth to her collar bone; only lightly, at first, which was something he had done before, but as his passion swelled Cadoc rallied his nerve. He bit down as he peaked, and Rukhash cried out as she came, a desperate, pleading sound, constricting him with the force of her orgasm.

It took Cadoc a moment to come back to himself, panting raggedly into the hollow of her neck. There was a metallic tang in his mouth and Cadoc grimaced. He did not think he had bit her so hard. He lifted the weight of his body off of her, leaning on his arms, and looked down at her face. She had a dazed, look about her. She blinked up at him, her expression showing the surprise that he felt by how forceful he'd been.

Rukhash reached up to brush the light blush of blood from his lower lip. "Fuck, Cadoc," she said breathlessly, "if I knew playin' with myself'd do  _that_  to ya, I'd a done it sooner."

Swallowing roughly, Cadoc pressed lightly to the rough teeth marks he'd left on her collar. "Are you alright?" he said anxiously, worried he had gone too far.

Rukhash nudged his ribs with a grin. "That were fuckin' perfect," she said with a sigh and batted at his hand prodding at her bite wound. "You leave that be," she told him sternly, then smirked. "How else is folks gonna tell what a good time I give ya?"

Cadoc dropped his head to her chest and grunted out a laugh. "You are going to kill me," he said, half serious.

Laughing, Rukhash slapped his flanks lightly. "There's worse ways ta die, then on top a yer woman."

"That is very true," Cadoc chuckled. He pressed his lips to her breastbone and carefully slid out of her, rolling to his place on their bedroll. After a breath, Cadoc sat up and pulled on his breeches. He had no desire to be caught naked if something or someone would disturb their rest. Rukhash watched him from her place on the bedroll, one arm propping up her head. He felt her prod lightly at his back.

"Gave you a few scratches," she said quietly, a hint of unease in her voice.

Cadoc reached back to inspect the place she had touched. The skin was raised, but he didn't feel any blood. "I hadn't noticed," he replied, and he truly hadn't. "Are they very deep?"

"Not really," she answered quietly.

Cadoc laid back down next to her and kissed her. "Then don't worry about it," he said, pulling a blanket over them both. "After all," he added, "how will others know that I showed _you_  a good time?"

She snorted at that and nipped lightly at his hairy chin. "Fair enough," she giggled, "prim old man."

Cadoc barked out a laugh and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Randy young pervert," he countered.

"Aye," Rukhash said wriggling close to him, "but I'm  _yer_  randy young pervert."

"That you are," Cadoc said softly, pulling her against his chest possessively and breathing in the soft, pine scent of her hair. They both fell quickly into a deep, relaxed sleep, feeling as though some obstacle had been crossed that they hadn't accounted for.

* * *

"What do you think, Ranger?" Barmund asked the young man accompanying them on their hunt. He was grievously postponed by Halbard's intervention, but after explaining the situation to Magistrate Aradhel, who outranked Halbard in authority, Barmund was released to assist in hunting down the Ranger that had betrayed his post for an orc.

Because they were so delayed, Barmund split the fifty men assigned to him into groups of ten, taking the young Ranger that volunteered his assistance with his own group. Cadoc had traversed the wilds for many years, and knew how to cover his tracks. It would take another of his Order to hunt him down.

"He has done a fine job hiding their passage," the young Ranger said as he examined the base of a thin, birch, "but I believe we are close. He is heading towards the Anduin. We will be able to catch up with them before they cross. By tomorrow, the latest."

"Good," Barmund said with a sharp nod and dismounted from his horse. "We will take a short rest here," he addressed the men with him. "Tomorrow, we should have our quarry." A round of grunting approval went up from the other hunters as they dismounted as well. It had taken far longer than they thought to hunt Cadoc and his orc down, but soon they would have their reward, both for her head and his capture.

Barmund turned towards the young ranger and clasped his shoulder, grateful for the man's help. "You've done well, Dellon."

Dellon nodded quietly, a black look in his eyes. "He should pay for his betrayal," the young man said darkly.

* * *

**Translations**

_shaûkizub_ : My shaûk (companion)

_Rukhashizub kul tor.:_ My Rukhash is beautiful.


	32. The Orc Butcher

 

**Splint**

**Chapter Thirty-Two: The Orc Butcher**

_**AN:** _ _There is an expanding of Dellon's past in the story_ _**Rotten Fruit** _ _, which is linked in my profile. Fair warning: it is very dark and very mature and not a necessary read. I will be sure to include enough that explains his past in this story (without reaching the graphic nature in RF), but that one shot is a detailed description of his early experiences with orcs. So, there you are._

* * *

_"Mum," said a rough, tiny voice. Rukhash's heart caught in her throat as her eyes fluttered open to the sight of her daughter's bright, orange irises. "Mum," Rangmau said again, her tone urgent._

_With a startled gasp, Rukhash pushed herself up off of the pallet she shared with Cadoc. His arm was draped around her naked waist as he snored quietly beside her. The blue dress was thrown haphazardly on top of their provisions, tossed aside in a second tumble after their first, protracted act of lovemaking the night before._

_Rukhash looked from her lover to her long dead daughter, very much present before her, a tangible shadow in the darkness. "Rangmau?" Rukhash gasped, and reached out to touch her cheek. To her surprise, her hand touched living flesh._

_"Mum," Rangmau urged, "yuh gotta go."_

_"Wh- what?" Rukhash was too startled to think clearly. How could her daughter be here with her and Cadoc when she was long dead and carrion? And why did Rukhash feel an awful dread fill the little hollow she and Cadoc settled into the night before? The air seemed suddenly oppressive, the darkness alive around them, the sounds of the night silenced, so all she could hear was her own, panicked breathing and Cadoc's quiet snores. It occurred to Rukhash, suddenly, that Rangmau's chest did not rise and fall with her own breath._

_"Yuh gotta go mum," Rangmau said again, louder this time, and Rukhash noticed small wisps of mist curl out of her mouth, as if the air was cold, but the temperature was comfortably warm. "He's comin' fer ya, kyob. He's comin wit' de dayyite."_

_"Who?" Rukhash swallowed anxiously, suddenly terrified. "Who's comin', mite?"_

_"Duh man dat wears bwack," she said darkly, 'duh one whut cuts us up inta bits, duh bushur."_

_Rukhash had never known her daughter to speak in riddles. "What're ya talkin' about, Rangmau?" Rukhash was nearly frantic, and she clutched her daughter's shoulder to shake her roughly. She began to tell her to make sense, but Rangmau's skin yielded to her grip, her hand catching on nothing, and it seemed to Rukhash as if her daughter was turning into black mist; melting into the shadows._

_"Yuh gotta go_ _**now** _ _!" Rangmau roared with the voice of an adult female, though somehow it was still her own voice, and pulled back her claws, scratching Rukhash across the face._

* * *

With a strangled scream, Rukhash bolted upright. Cadoc immediately startled awake, rolling to a half crouch, his eyes darting around the dark cavern for whatever threat awaited them. Seeing nothing in the gloom, which was barely lit by the approaching dawn, he stared incredulously at Rukhash. Her hand was clasped against her cheek, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Rukhash," Cadoc half sighed with relief, realizing she was unhurt and they were alone. "What happened? Did you have a nightmare?" Cadoc had never known her to wake in terror, but that was exactly what appeared to have happened. He wondered what she dreamed to have woken so violently.

The orcess's eyes roamed the cave, her mouth half open as though she wished to say something, though no noise came out. Her gaze finally settled on Cadoc, and Rukhash found her voice. "We gotta get outta here," she told him, her expression serious.

"You just had a bad dream," Cadoc soothed, pulling her hand from her cheek and taking her hands in his own. "There is nothing to worry abou-" Cadoc stopped short at the sight of five, shallow scratches on her cheek beading blood. Touching the injurly gently, Cadoc frowned. "What did this? Was there an animal in here with us?"

"Rangmau," Rukhash gasped out. Blinking, Cadoc's frown grew. What did Rukhash's daughter have to do with her injury? "Rangmau done it," she said earnestly and her hands tightened around his. "She come ta warn me, Cadoc! We gotta go. Soemone's comin' fer us!"

With a long sigh, Cadoc pulled out of her grasp and rubbed her shoulders gently. "It was just a dream," he said softly, though his words had little effect on her fear. She looked just as terrified as when she woke.

"Weren't no  _dream_!" Rukhash growled, angry. In truth, she couldn't say that it  _wasn't_  a dream, but something told her to heed her daughter's warning. Rukhash never had a vision like that in all her life, and she had the scratches to prove it.

"She scratched me, Cadoc," she said, reaching up to touch the wound on her face, still sticky with drying blood. "She said a man in black is comin' fer me an' then she scratched me so's I would wake up. It happened! I ain't lyin'!"

A troubled scowl marred Cadoc's face. "Who did... Rangmau... say was coming for you?"

"She called 'im-" Rukhash took a shuddering breath, trying to remember her daughter's words precisely. "She called 'im the 'man that wears black, the one that cuts us in ta bits, the butcher.' That's what she said  _exactly_." Rukhash watched Cadoc's expression darken, a hint of recognition in his eyes, and a new thrill of fear welled up in her, twisting her gut. "Do you know someone like 'at? It don't make no sense ta me, but she said 'e were comin' wit' the dawn. Cadoc, do ya know what she were talkin' about?"

It was a little hard to swallow, the thought that Rukhash was warned by a spirit that scratched her awake, but Cadoc had seen Nazgûl on the wing and witnessed the Army of the Dead wreak havoc upon the Black Army on Pelennor Field. The world was full of things that went beyond understanding, and Rukhash's description matched a man he knew all to well; one with a dubious reputation when it came to dealing with orcs. "Dellon," Cadoc whispered under his breath.

"We need to go," Cadoc stated anxiously as he rose to his feet and began to dress. Rukhash followed suit without question, pulling on her tunic and boots and stuffing the blue dress into her pack. If Rukhash's vision was true, if Dellon was on their trail, then Cadoc doubted he was traveling alone. If they were going to cross the Anduin, they would need to do it soon. The River would not save them, but it might slow down whoever was following, and give them a chance to escape capture.

It wasn't until they were packed and Rukhash's bow was strung and they were on their way that Rukhash thought to question him. "Who is it she were warnin' me about?" Rukhash rumbled to Cadoc's back as they hurried through the rocky, forested terrain of Eastern Gondor.

It was a moment before Cadoc responded, and Rukhash felt the distress in her  _shaûk_  as the anxious seconds ticked by without an answer. "A former comrade," Cadoc said finally. "He despises your people, and though the reason for his hate is justifiable, the tactics he uses against orcs are troubling, even to those who hunt your kind."

There was silence, and Cadoc knew Rukhash was gathering questions. "What do ya mean by 'justifiable'?" Cadoc blinked at that. He assumed she would be more interested in Dellon's methods than his reasons.

"He was assaulted by your people, a pair of Uruk hai females. They did him great injury," Cadoc paused, remembering. He and Hedon had found Dellon, naked and half dead, after the she-orcs were done with him. "He has not forgotten it."

"Holdin' a grudge, is he?" the orcess scoffed. Cadoc thought she sounded amused, and stopped his momentum, turning to face her. He regarded his wife for a long moment. Her smirk made Cadoc's hackles rise. This was not a laughing matter.

He glared at her, and Rukhash's grin falterd. "If you are so unconcerned, we can go back to the cavern and wait for him, and however many men he has with him," Cadoc told her severely, his expression stony. "Then you can mock him for 'holding a grudge' to his face."

"Course I'm concerned," Rukhash growled defensively. "What do ya want me ta do? Shit myself? Rangmau warned us an' now we can have the jump on 'im. Git out before he finds us."

"That is easier said that done," Cadoc scolded. "Dellon is a well trained Ranger. I know this because  _I_  am the one who trained him, before he donned his black cloak and started hunting your race in earnest. The only man better suited to track us would be Hedon."

" _Skai_ , Cadoc," Rukhash breathed, her countenance matching the contrition in her voice. "I'm just tryin' ta take some a the piss outta it. I just woke up wit' scatches from my dead girl on my face. You don't think I'm scared? Shit, I'm fuckin' scared ta death."

The same look of terror she woke with came over her, and Cadoc felt horrible. Rukhash laughed at everything, especially things that frightened her. He should not have taken offense. Rukhash didn't know the idealist that Dellon was before his encounter with the she-orcs, she didn't understand the extent of Dellon's injuries, both of the body and the spirit. The hatred that filled him afterwards was disquieting, but none would reprimand him for hating orcs, no matter how cruel his methods for exterminating the race that had done him injury. Dellon did, indeed, hold a grudge. Truer words were never spoken.

Embracing her, Cadoc pressed his cheek to Rukhash's dark hair. "I swear to you," he told her earnestly, "as long as I have strength in my body, he will not lay a hand on you." Rukhash nodded against his chest and Cadoc released her, smoothing his thumb along her cheek before catching her lips in a quick, chaste kiss. Her demeanor brightened, and she smiled weakly at him. "Now," he said with a gentle expression, "we should heed your daughter's warning and be off."

* * *

They were making good time. If Cadoc and his orc were as close as his guide suggested, they would most likely catch up with them by morning. He was glad he ordered camp broken after only a few hours. Cadoc's carelessness would be his undoing, and Barmund would pay him back for making him look like a fool. Imprisonment for what was a noble profession was humiliating. Fortunately, Magistrate Aradhel was able to clear things up and have him released. It was a shame he would not be able to witness the fate Halbard would suffer for his foolishness.

Barmund's gaze slid towards the young man riding beside him. He had never met a Ranger quite like this one, clothed in black, the white tree of Minas Tirith embroidered on his outer shirt. For a young man, his expression was constantly grave. Dellon seemed to care nothing for jokes or idle conversation, his only goal the hunt at hand.

While he appreciated his focus, Barmund found the Ranger somewhat creepy. The Orc Butcher, he had heard him called. A man that matched orcs in their cruelty and malice. He was a useful ally in this hunt, but not much of a conversationalist. The lack of orcs in Gondor and Ithilien in recent years must have found him with a great deal of idle time. Then again, from what Barmund had heard of the man, Dellon was most likely responsible for that lack of orcs.

"How far do you believe we are?" Barmund asked, anxious now that they seemed so close.

Dellon spared him a glance before focusing again on the terrain ahead of him. "We should dismount soon," Dellon said. "They are close, and the horses will betray our approach."

Barmund wanted to ask how he knew this, but though better of it. Raising his hand, he called the small company to halt and they dismounted. They tied their horses and the hounds among the tall pines and followed the young Ranger up a rocky slope to where a cluster of tall stones roughly formed a cavern. The sun was just coming up, and the entrance was inky black in the dim light. With a quick gesture, Barmund signaled for three men to surround the entrance. Swords slid from scabbards with a quiet  _snick_ , and Barmund led his men in the advance.

There was a breath of anticipation before he sprung into the cave, a rush of adrenaline as he prepared for the fight he knew would come. Magistrate Aradhel was firm in his desire that Cadoc be taken alive, if possible, but that orc of his had killed two men when they attacked her last. Barmund looked forward to avenging those men, and to insuring Cadoc was brought to low for humiliating him. If only Baladnor had been brought up on similar charges, but his betrayal was beyond Barmund's revenge. So, Cadoc and his orc would have to do in his stead. Barmund always finished what he started.

They burst into the hollow in force, their swords flashing, only to find it completely empty. Barmund turned to their guide with a sneer, enraged. "I thought you said they were here!" he bellowed, frightening a few birds perched on a nearby rock.

Dellon strode calmly into the cavern, pausing by a small patch of flattened earth. "They spent last night here," he said coolly. "Fetch your hounds, so they will have their scent."

He didn't like taking orders from anyone, especially a man many years his junior, but Barmund still ordered the hounds brought up to the cave. Coming to stand next to the Ranger while they waited, he regarded the young man for a long minute. "You knew they had fled already," he accused.

"No," Dellon answered, his eyes roaming the small cavern keenly. "Somehow Cadoc must have known of our approach, or he has adopted the habit of traveling in darkness to accommodate the creature. Either way, their trail led here and it was fresh." Huffing, Barmund turned to speak with some of his men. They were growing restless, led in one direction after another, and Barmund sought to cool their impatience. Dellon inwardly sneered at their lack of resolve, and bent to inspect Cadoc's prior camp more closely.

There were numerous tracks made by the same, two pairs of boots and the cool embers of a fire snuffed out. Dellon could make out where their gear was stashed, the uneven depressions near a stone wall, and where the pallet had been laid out, a scant few feet in front of him.

He honestly hadn't believed the accusations at first. That a man of Cadoc's honor and bravery would be coerced by an orc was almost inconceivable, but here was his proof: a shared bed. The depravity of such of thing brought bile to his throat. He had only come across such vileness once before, three years past. Then, it had been a Woman with an orc lover. She had been beyond redemption, defending her monstrous partner as though it were her goodly husband. The orc had been an easy kill, since it didn't flee when Dellon and the party he led finally ran them down, but rushed at them like a mindless beast. As for that poor, defiled woman, the noose had been a kinder fate than her continued despoiling and the propagation of more, hideous, half-bred offspring.

Dellon swallowed his disgust and reminded himself that this was no ordinary monster that had ensnared his former mentor. It had somehow beguiled Cadoc's whole family and even Magistrate Halbard, a man of great honor. Baladnor, who Dellon only knew as an adulterer and drunk, must have been an easy target, but to corrupt men like Cadoc and Halbard, men of dignity, was a difficult task. This orc witch must have great power. It was a small relief that Hedon seemed unaffected by her sorcery. He was just as surprised and appalled by the revelation of Cadoc's relationship with the creature when Dellon questioned him, and Dellon wondered what precautions the man had taken to guard himself against the creature.

Cadoc would have to answer for his treason, but Dellon was determined to discover what the orc had done to him, what magic she had worked to bring him so low. He owed his former mentor that much for saving his life.

"You're looking pale, Ranger," Dellon startled at the sound of Barmund's voice; so caught up in thought, he had not noticed his approach. Dellon schooled his face into a neutral expression and faced the orc hunter directly.

"It is an appalling thought, isn't it?" Barmund continued. "A man and an orc; I have only heard whispers of such foulness... Then again, what do you expect from a man with Dunlending blood in him?"

Dellon frowned at that. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't know?" Barmund laughed as Dellon shook his head. "I suppose you would have had to grow up in our village. Everyone knows that family is tainted. The only reason for their good standing are Elador's wealth and the renowned deeds of Cadoc's grandfather, and, perhaps," Barmund admitted grudgingly, "Cadoc's own actions in the War; which, if you ask me, are all tarnished by his Dunland grandmother. My own grandfather told me the whole, sordid tale when I was a lad."

Barmund regarded Dellon thoughtfully. "I'm honestly surprised you hadn't guessed at it, considering his  _name_  and the oddness of his features. Granted, the difference in his look is subtle," Barmund pulled out the corners of his eyes out with his index fingers, so they were slightly more narrow and almond shaped, "but haven't you wondered why he's always so squinty?"

It was something that Dellon hadn't considered. In all the years he had known him, Cadoc never alluded to a Dunland ancestry. Dellon had always assumed his slightly peculiar features – his squinty eyes and narrower build and heavier brow – were a result of some mixing of the blood, but he never guessed that blood was Dunland blood. However, now that Barmund mentioned it, Cadoc's fall from grace made perfect sense. To already be maligned by such a heritage would make corruption of his character that much easier. "He was, most likely, too ashamed to bring it up," Dellon replied evenly.

Barmund laughed outright at that.

"Indeed," Barmund agreed, but anything he intended to say beyond that was cut short by the growling barks of the three, large hounds with them. "Ah," the orc hunter smiled as he turned towards the dark, sleek canines, "finally. Bring them here and we can finish this."

It took moments for the hounds to catch the scent. They barked and bayed and pulled their leash. Their handler released the clips holding them back, and the orc hunters mounted their steeds and rode off after them into the cool morning mists of the forest, towards the Anduin, where they would meet their quarry.

* * *

"It smells like shit," Rukhash groused as she covered her nose with her sleeve.

Cadoc had to admit, she was right. In the midday heat the runoff from the many villages and cites that had sprung up along the Anduin shores in the wake of the war baked in the sun. The rushing water was brown with detritus and upturned sediment from the riverbanks, and the smell wafting off was something between rotting eggs and sour mud. Cadoc wrinkled his much less sensitive nose. The progress of Men was not always pretty.

Still, they would have to cross it. The far shore was a beige blot along the horizon, the river here being very wide and deep. They were stopped on a small hillock overlooking the mighty river, and though they were surrounded on all sides by thick forest, Cadoc could not spot any suitable, fallen limbs for them to use in a raft's construction. It could take over a day for them to fell enough wood for such a task, and Cadoc felt as though they did not have that much time. They had nearly sprinted the whole way here, driven by the warning of a specter, and had made spectacular time, but Cadoc could feel an imposing presence nearing. It was not something he could wholly explain, and it may have been Rukhash's terrified waking influencing him, but the more they ran the more he was convinced her vision had spoke true.

"We may have to swim it," he said uneasily to Rukhash's back, anxious of her inability to swim. Cadoc was not entirely confident in his ability to ferry them both across the swift moving river, and he hoped his scant lessons in treading water would help her assist him.

She didn't answer him immediately. Rukhash had wandered towards the edge of the clearing, peering curiously into the dark canopy of the forest. She turned to him with a cheeky grin. "Or we could use 'at boat," she said, thrusting her thumb behind her.

With a raised brow, Cadoc approached her position. It took a few moments to spot the boat, but when he did, he nearly laughed out loud. About five hundred yards downriver, past the many oak and birch and down a small, rocky hill, a small fishing boat was tied up in an eddy, hidden among a cluster of bowing willow trees and shadowed by the dense forest. If Cadoc had not been looking for it, he would have never noticed it.

Cadoc clasped his hand on Rukhash's shoulder and bent to quickly kiss her dark, sweaty cheek. "Bless your sharp orc eyes!" he said brightly.

Cadoc watched Rukhash's bright smile falter, and, as her ear turned back, morph into an anxious frown. "What is it?" he asked, distressed by her quick change in demeanor.

Turning, Rukhash snarled in the direction from which they had come. "Fucking  _hoitataath_ ," she hissed, pinning her ears back. As she spoke, Cadoc became aware of a very faint baying in the distance.

"Get to the boat," he ordered tightly as he unbuckled and drew his sword, dropping his gear and taking a few steps forward, so he was positioned between Rukhash and the hounds he knew were approaching. She growled behind him, and Cadoc was annoyed to hear the sound of her own pack dropping to the ground. The hound's barking was getting louder, and now Cadoc could hear faint whinnying.

"Didn't you hear me?" Cadoc shouted, turning towards her.

Rukhash had strung her bow and pulled an arrow from her quiver. "Yer a fucking idiot if ya think I'm leavin' ya here ta face 'em alone."

Cadoc stalked towards her, grabbing her bow arm roughly. " _Do not argue me in this_!" he roared, and Rukhash's defiance faltered. She had never seen him so angry. Cadoc reigned in his temper, but his hard glare remained. "Take our packs and get to the boat," he told her and released her arm. "I will be right behind you." Cadoc turned back towards their approaching pursuers, and Rukhash was caught in indecision. She didn't want to leave him here.

When he realized she hadn't moved, Cadoc turned to look over his shoulder at her. The snarl on his face made him appear almost orcish. " _Go!,_ " he barked at her, and years of long habit in obeying orders from harder, more forceful orcs had her rushing, fumbling in her haste, to collect their packs. She dashed into the woods and down the rocky incline towards the boat.

Their rucksacks were in the boat and she was staring, wide eyed and panting, at the oars, up to her knees in mucky, brown water, before she regained her nerve. Looking up the slope to where she left Cadoc, she pulled her bow and quiver back out of the boat. With a determined expression, Rukhash growled low in her throat. "Fucking idiot," she hissed, angry at herself for bending so easily, and dashed back up the hill.

* * *

The hunting dogs cleared the brush first, the largest of the trio lunging at Cadoc. He booted the hound to the ground, and the beast fell with a yelp. The second dog jumped, aiming for his sword arm and Cadoc parried and drew his blade across the dog's ear, sending it whining into the bushes. The remaining canine had the good sense to hang back, and growled menacingly at Cadoc as the horses bearing the orc hunters surrounded him. Though it had been over five years since he had seen the lad, Cadoc recognized Dellon immediately, dressed in black, his sword drawn.  _The Orc Butcher himself,_  Cadoc thought darkly and prayed that Rukhash had heeded him and was making her way across the Anduin.

Barmund led his horse before Cadoc, who brought his sword to the ready. The orc hunter looked down from his mount and laughed. "It was quite the merry chase you've led us on, Ranger," he said with a smirk, "but it's over now. Drop your weapon and hand over your orc."

A mirthless smile graced Cadoc's face. "What orc?" he said flippantly. "I see no orc here."

"Cadoc, son of Belon" Dellon spoke from the edge of the circle, his voice bereft of all emotion, "by order of Magistrate Aradhel you are accused of treason to your Order and the Crown. Failure to comply with your arrest will result in your immediate execution."

Cadoc's smug smile faded, a look shock replacing it.

"I would rather it not come to that, Cadoc," Dellon continued, his tone gentle. "Turn over the creature that has bewitched you and there may still be hope. Lord Faramir and King Elessar are known for their mercy and compassion. They may be able to undo whatever witchcraft that monster has done to you."

An angry scowl marred Cadoc's features. "No one had  _bewitched_  me," he shouted, as clearly as possible, in the hopes that this infuriating misconception might finally be put to rest. As if he were so weak-minded! "I have no intension of turning  _anything_  over to you; neither my weapon nor my  _wife_!"

A sick look passed over the men that surrounded him, Dellon seemed to pale especially, but Barmund grinned as he dismounted and drew his own weapon. "Your life it is, then."

The party of orc hunters followed Barmund's lead, while Dellon remained on his steed, an anxious look on his face. The circle of men closed around him, and Cadoc gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, trusting that Rukhash would reach the safety of the far shore. The most he could hope now was that his life would buy her freedom.

* * *

Rukhash had made her way to a good perch just as a threesome of dogs attacked Cadoc. Rukhash panicked, she hadn't been able to thread an arrow yet, but Cadoc fended them off easily, and a little part of her swooned to see him in action. Such grace! One of the injured hounds bolted into the forest and strait towards the tree she had climbed. She put an arrow through it and the beast fell to the ground. At least he wouldn't cause her Cadoc any more trouble.

Eleven men appeared on dark horses, hedging Cadoc in, and Rukhash threaded another arrow. She was a good ways off, hoping that the element of surprise would aid her. Rukhash was not sure she wanted to betray that element just yet. So far, they were just talking. Rukhash only could make out part of what one of them said, something about Cadoc giving up his weapons. She recognized him immediately as the man who led the attack on the cottage – Barmund, if her memory served her – and Rukhash sneered at him through the canopy.

She caught sight of a man in black, and her blood ran cold, remembering the intensity of her daughter's apparition. Drawing her arrow, she aimed for him, an easy shot with nothing in her line of sight to deter her arrow, but held back, startled by what he was saying. Cadoc, a traitor? She had never heard a bigger load of shit, and cursed this 'Magistrate Aradhel' for being a complete fool. If she ever met the man, she would split his tongue down the middle for spreading such vapid lies.

Cadoc's response to them reached her ears, and Rukhash smiled softly.  _That's my shaûk_ , she though with adoration. How could Cadoc honestly expect her to leave him to the mercy of these  _pushdug_  bastards? What was the promise of a  _shaûk_  if she ran at the first whiff of trouble? Cadoc might be cross with her for doubling back, but Rukhash could not do otherwise. She could not lose another  _shaûk_  because she wasn't there to help him fight. Rukhash would have never been able to forgive herself if Cadoc suffered the same fate as her Anbagûrz.

She had removed her boots to make climbing easier, and Rukhash dug the claws of her naked feet into the bark, firming her posture and taking aim at the man in black. Once she loosed her arrow, her position would be revealed, but Rukhash was fairly sure she could take out at least four or five men before they overtook her tree.

The men dismounted and Rukhash readied herself for a proper fight, but paused, remembering long ago words her grandfather imparted to her. Not being a soldier herself, it was the one lesson in strategy that she had ever been given.

_Her grandfather crouched beside her and pulled her onto his knee. Rukhash was small and round eyed as her white haired granddad held up a wriggling, black snake he had caught creeping in her pallet. He had just returned from a raid in the South, the land of the straw heads, and several , white bandages were wrapped around his arm and head. When he had stopped suddenly by her sleeping spot to rifle through the furs covering her, she had nearly scratched him bloody in fear, but little black snakes were poisonous, this she knew from her mother and father both. Rukhash clung to her old granddad, staring at the wriggling serpent, its tiny head clutched between his thumb and forefinger._

_"Remember this always, my little bird," her grandfather said as he held the snake before her eyes. Its red tongue flicked nervously. "Cut the head and the body dies too." Quick as breath, her granddad caught the snake's head in his teeth and twisted it, pulling the head from the writhing body with a little squirt of blood. He spat the head onto the floor and handed the serpent to her to gnaw on. Rukhash chewed the tough flesh and watched him carefully, knowing her lesson wasn't over._

_"This is as true of snakes as it is of men, and groups of men. Kill the head and the rest follow, scattered like frightened rats." Grandpa Geth smiled broadly, his yellow teeth bright with watery blood. "Do you understand, little heart?"_

The man in black was an easy target, but he wasn't the one leading these men. Rukhash spotted Barmund through the boughs between her and the clearing ahead. The other, nine hunters were gathered around him in a semi-circle, flanking his sides, while the man in black was positioned a little further away from them, still mounted on his horse. Though it was the man in black that imparted Cadoc's sentence, it was Barmund barking orders, Barmund who those other hunters were looking to for their lead. Barmund was her target.

Rukhash inhaled, adjusting her posture and aimed through the crisscross of thin branches between herself and the lead orc hunter. The soft, feather fletch brushed lightly against her cheek as she drew back her arrow. She would only have one chance at this shot, and it would not be an easy one.

"Kill the head," she whispered, exhaled slowly and released.

* * *

Barmund and his men closed in on him, and Cadoc readied himself. He might take two or three of them down before they overwhelmed him. Dellon sat motionlessly on his mount, and a part of Cadoc screamed in rage. How many times had he saved that boy's life? How many times had he pulled that boy out of one mess or another as he fumbled clumsily as an apprentice? How many times had he listened patiently, when Dellon was a more idealistic man and Cadoc more jaded, entertaining Dellon's notions that orcs and Men could live in peace? Now, Dellon's ideals blew strictly in the opposite direction.

He would have no help from his former student. Dellon would sit on his mount, his eyes full of cool distain, while these men took his life, and Cadoc felt very betrayed. As though his decades of service and sacrifice had meant nothing. And perhaps they hadn't. Apparently, in the face of this one, tiny thing, which Cadoc treasured more than his own life, but in the long history of his people would mean very little, all he had done for Gondor up until this point, when he chose to take something for himself, meant  _less_  than nothing. He had faced the shadow in the wilderness as it tried to crush Gondor, stood at the Black Gate with his lord and king as the armies of Mordor overwhelmed them, given up a marriage and a son for the higher purpose of serving his country, and he would be buried in an unmarked, traitor's grave, a disgrace to his family and his people. If his immediate situation was not so dire, Cadoc might have sat down and wept.

The orc hunters sneered and smiled and prepared their weapons, Barmund the smuggest among them. Cadoc swallowed roughly, rallying himself. He would meet them bravely in battle. He would die a Son of Gondor, even if he was reviled by Her. With a smirk, Barmund coiled, and Cadoc could see his whole posture ready to lunge. There was a high whistling sound, and the head of the orc hunters' leader jerked to the side with a wet  _schlunk._  Cadoc blinked. An arrow, one of Rukhash's dark feathered shafts, was spitted directly through Barmund's head. For a split second, it looked like one of the novelty headbands sold at festivals and worn in jest to amuse small children. Then, a long trickle of bright sanguine trailed out of Barmund's nose, his eyes rolled back and he fell to the ground, dead as nails.

A mute shock followed in the wake of their leader's death, and for a moment the orc hunters were completely still and horrified. Then there was a second whistle and a third and two more men fell. Cadoc took this opportunity to charge what remained of the men surrounding him. He ran through a red haired man, wild eyed and distracted by the disarray that ensued in the wake of their leader's death.

"We're surrounded!" one of the younger hunters squealed before turning and running towards his retreating horse. Cadoc could hear Dellon calling for the men to rally and follow him into the forest to 'find the orc,' but two men had turned and fled after the first already as Cadoc charged another, disarming him and drawing his blade across the man's belly before moving to the next. There was a whistle and a  _thunk_  and the thumping sound of another body falling.

After the two, high pitched yelps, Cadoc realized Rukhash took care of the remaining dogs. Then, the whistling of arrows had gone quiet, and the clash of Cadoc's steel against the two men brave enough to stay and fight were the only sounds in the forest. In an unoccupied part of his brain, Cadoc realized Dellon and his steed were gone.

As Cadoc struggled with his pair of opponents, Dellon found himself winding through the densely packed trees, his attention split between insuring his horse kept its footing and the small she-orc jumping from tree to tree like a deranged squirrel. The beast had the look of an Uruk hai, but her longer forelimbs, rat-like feet and dexterity were more reminiscent of one of the goblin breeds, though she was easily the largest goblin he had ever seen.

When she had spotted the man in black making a beeline in her direction, Rukhash had made a few hasty attempts at felling him, but her quiver was running low, and he had pulled a crossbow from his saddle strap. She had, much to her shame, panicked a little, and made a mad dash from her perch to lead him on a chase through the forest.

Now, Rukhash bobbed and weaved through the trees, thankful that her father had taken the time to bring her into the rough, unfinished caverns under Orthanc and teach her how to climb and leap properly. Eventually, though, she was going to run out of trees. Several, short arrows narrowly missed her, and Rukhash made to double back. There were still men fighting Cadoc, and she was getting further and further away from the boat. Rukhash scurried up another trunk into the thicket of leaves overhead and started vaulting herself back the way she had come. When she spotted the little cluster of oaks up ahead, she smiled to herself, a quick plan forming in her mind.

His horse slid on the slick debris of rotting leaves and plant matter on the forest floor and it took a heartbeat for Dellon to right his stallion. He managed to catch sight of the orc just as it leapt into a tall oak directly ahead and Dellon made to follow, notching another arrow in his crossbow. He halted his horse just past the tree, realizing he was surrounded by more oaks, and spun his mount to turn himself around. This was an obvious trap.

A hard force threw him from his saddle and onto the ground, and it was a dazed moment before Dellon realized the orc was straddling his waist, his horse bolting into the distance. It was the first time Dellon had a good, close look at Cadoc's orc. Her palm pressed into his shoulder as her dark face split into a wide fanged smile, her pale yellow eyes flashing dangerously. A low, anticipatory growl rumbled in her throat as she raised a curved dagger above her head.

"Hello, my duck," the she-orc purred, and her obscene smile widened.

The momentary terror that filled Dellon was immediately replaced with rage, and he kicked the she orc off of him. She fell with a startled yelp, dropping her blade. As she reached for her weapon, Dellon righted himself and got to his feet, grabbing her by the ankles and pulling her back from the dagger stuck in the ground a few feet away from her hand.

She screeched and cursed at him in her rough, growling accent as she tried to kick out of his grasp, digging her claws into the soft earth, her expression panicking. Her tunic had ridden up to her waist as he dragged her across the forest floor, exposing her waist, scantily clad in a thin loincloth. Frustrated with her struggling, he could not reach for his own weapon as she fought him, he lifted his foot and brought the hard, steel heel of his boot down on her crotch. She was not a male, but the force of the blow had a similar effect. The she-orc squealed like a stuck pig and curled in on herself, the fight momentarily knocked out of her.

Dellon grabbed her thick nest of dark hair, lifting and twisting her onto her stomach and kneeling into the small of her back, forcing her down. The orc regained her composure enough to continue struggling, tearing some of her own hair out of his grasp as she contorted her torso, trying to reach back and swipe at him even as her feet dug into the ground in an attempt to right herself. Her claws caught on the thick leather of his gloves, but Dellon had learned long ago to reinforce his gloves and boots against an orc's claws. She tore through the outer layer, but his skin remained untouched. He forced her face into the soft earth, muffling her growls, and she coughed and gasped as he drew his long, thin dagger from his boot, positioning it at the base of her skull and applying just enough pressure to get her attention.

Rukhash stilled immediately. The cool, sharp thrill of a blade against her scalp sent her heart racing. This prick fought dirty! But this was not a good position for her to be in. The man in black forced her head further into the rotting foliage, turning her face slightly. She glared at his smug look from the corner of her eye and tried to spit the dirt and twigs out of her dry mouth.

"Now," he huffed, a little out of breath, as he pressed his knife against her flesh, "you will tell me what you have done to Cadoc, or I will scalp you alive."

Rukhash tried to swallow, but the desert that was her throat made her cough. She laughed instead, a hoarse, bitter sound. It was just as likely he would scalp her alive anyhow. Besides, she had no idea what moronic nonsense he was talking about.

This was really going to  _hurt_.

"What I done ta Cadoc?" she croaked. "What, you mean aside from fuck 'im proper?"

The man's face contorted into pure fury, and Rukhash squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. She wasn't going to scream. If she was going to die here, she would do it with some measure of dignity. Screaming just got a bloke off anyhow, and she wasn't going to give this little snit the satisfaction.

There was a  _whump_  and a  _thump_  and the weight of the man pressing her into the ground vanished, her hair suddenly free of his unyielding grip. Rukhash turned to see her attacker knocked out cold beside her, a purpling welt blooming on his temple. Spitting and wiping her face, she twisted around to stare up at the monstrous man hovering over her. Rukhash snorted and snickered and fell into a round of relieved laughter.

"Orc," Hedon grumbled at her from beneath the brim of a wide hat. "I am glad to see you find this situation so amusing."

Rukhash tried to reign herself in, but she couldn't help it. Hedon looked ridiculous! He was wearing a broad, straw hat that was nearly as wide as his shoulders and tied under his hairy chin with a little, leather strap. A dark blue cloak covered a haphazard layering of worn-through wool shirts and cotton underthings. His ranger's sword was strapped to his waist, and a crisscross of straps held a small variety of packs to his large person. He was carrying a thick, wood walking stick, the weapon he must have used to render her attacker unconscious.

Rukhash swallowed dryly and shook her head. "Mad ol' ox," she greeted him hoarsely, "What the fuck're you supposed ta be?"

"I am traveling incognito," he answered evenly as he extended his gloved hand to her, "and you're welcome."

"Thanks," Rukhash said with a sheepish grin as she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She wavered for a moment and Hedon steadied her. With a few, rough pats he cleared some of the dirt from her back. She adjusted the hem of her tunic with a ragged breath, looking up towards Hedon in time to see him regarding the unconscious man at their feet darkly.

"I always thought he'd become a little overzealous," the large ranger said sarcastically. Rukhash smiled at that, a little, breathy laugh escaping her, and Hedon returned her smile. "Are you all right?" he asked. A concerned look came over his face. "Where is Cadoc?"

A shout echoed through the wood, and Hedon had his answer. "Rukhash!" Cadoc called, and the orcess brightened and started in his direction, limping slightly.

"Cadoc!" she called back and in short order, Hedon caught the familiar sight of his friend stumbling through the trees. Cadoc looked awful, a long, red gash of drying blood spread from his jaw to his temple and a fresh bruise was blossoming under his eye, but his whole countenance brightened at the sight of Rukhash hobbling towards him. He embraced her tightly, dropping his sword to the ground and wrapping his arms around her, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. Hedon couldn't hear what Cadoc was whispering to her, or she to him, but the relief in their voices was evident. Hedon didn't spare the unconscious form of Dellon a glance as he headed towards the pair of them. He would be out cold for a few hours yet.

Cadoc released Rukhash, but kept his arm around her protectively, not quite ready to release her yet. He recognized his old friend immediately, and almost laughed out loud. "Hedon," Cadoc greeted, biting back a smile, "what in the world are your wearing?"

Hedon scoffed and straitened his shoulders. "I am traveling in disguise," he explained for the second time, pulling at his cloak self consciously. "That over eager young fool spent nearly a day 'interrogating' me concerning your whereabouts. I waited a day before leaving Nándra and the children and coming after you, but our connection is well known. I didn't want my assisting you to bode ill for my family."

Cadoc nodded, understanding completely. "Of course," he said, anxious that such trouble had come upon his friend. "What of Edda? Is she well?"

"She is well," Hedon confirmed. "Her and Elador and their children and your mother, but they were also questioned. There is more to speak of, but not here. A large number of men are after you, Cadoc. We must put as much distance as we can between ourselves and them."

"They may be less of a problem than you think," Cadoc said, standing tall, "Rukhash and I were able to fend them off. Barmund is dead."

Hedon's brows rose in disbelief. "You fought off  _fifty_  men?"

"Fifty?" Rukhash grumbled. "I ain't that good wit' my numbers, but it looked less'n  _that_."

"Magistrate Aradhel deputized fifty men to hunt you down," Hedon replied with a shrewd look. "Unless you have defeated that small  _army_ , I suggest we leave as soon as possible. I brought a boat down from a town further north and have hidden it nearby." Hedon gestured towards the direction of the alcove where Rukhash spotted the boat, and Cadoc smiled to himself, "I have been scouring the shore for the two of you for the past day and a half."

Cadoc clasped Hedon's forearm, a broad smile on his face. "Thank you, my friend," he said softly. "Your help is very much appreciated. I know it comes at a great risk to you," Cadoc laughed, "and I am glad I shared my route with you before I left."

Huffing, Hedon patted Cadoc roughly on the shoulder. "You need  _someone_  on your side in all this," he admitted. "I can think of no one more reliable than myself."

Rukhash had wandered back towards the prone form of Dellon, and Cadoc noticed her just in time to catch her turning him onto his back. She readied her knife and Cadoc rushed forward to stop her, grabbing her wrist as she raised her arm.

" _What're you doin._?" she roared, straining against his grip. "That arsehole were gonna scalp me  _alive_."

Cadoc's restraint on her arm was unyielding, his face grim. "There is no honor in killing an unconscious man. We should be on our way."

"S _kai_!" Rukhash spat. "That's a load of fuckin' shit! You said 'e were the best man ta track us, he fuckin' tried ta skin me, and he's set on killin' us; 'at's reason enough ta spit 'im now!" Honor,  _sha_ , what nonsense! Cadoc and his precious honor could get them both killed. There were consequences to letting your enemy live.

"No," Cadoc glared darkly at her. "You will leave him be, Rukhash."

Rukhash looked to Hedon, who stood a short distance away, his broad arms folded over his chest. Though he did not take up a protective stance near the fallen Dellon, he did not appear inclined to agree with her. Hedon glanced between the two of them before heading towards the boat. "I'll let you two work this out amongst yourselves," he said evenly.

Rukhash turned towards Cadoc and sneered, defiant. "An' what if he were an orc, yea? You'd let me run 'im through then?"

A thoughtful, soft look crossed Cadoc's face, and the grip on her arm relaxed, though Cadoc did not break his hold on her. "If an orc had been a comrade to me once," Cadoc said softly, "then I would not let you kill him, even if he posed a future threat. Dellon and I, our trust is broken, but he is no danger to us immediately. For the sake of the friendship we once had, I would spare him now."

Staring at him incredulously, Rukhash lowered her sword to her side as Cadoc released her arm. "There's times I can't understand how ya lived this long," she told him, and turned to stomp angrily in Hedon's wake.

Cadoc spared one, last glance towards his unconscious former pupil. There would be no reconciliation between them. Dellon would hunt them until they were beyond his reach. Even after his betrayal, the look of loathing in his eyes, Cadoc still pitied him, still saw the broken youth he rescued seven years past. There was great pain in Dellon. Cadoc hoped that someday he would overcome it and find peace. If it came to pass, Cadoc  _would_  kill him to defend Rukhash from his ruthlessness, but not like this, not while he was defenseless.

Turning towards his wife's tense, retreating back, Cadoc followed after her. She was angry now, but Rukhash's temper was like a summer storm. He would explain his reasoning and she would cool down eventually. Dellon had attacked her, and she had no personal attachment to him, so Cadoc could understand her need for vengeance, but this was one thing he could not bend to her in.

* * *

A pounding resounded in Dellon's ears as his eyes fluttered open. Through the canopy of leaves overhead, the sky was turning ruddy and dark, and the young ranger bolted immediately into a sitting position. He glanced around him, and realizing that he was alone, rolled onto his feet and headed towards the clearing where they had confronted Cadoc.

What he found there were eight bodies, three with arrows stuck in them and another five with deep gashes made by a broadsword. Dellon glowered, enraged. Cadoc had fallen very far indeed, to take the life of men bonded to serve Gondor. This act of murder would not go unpunished, and it made Dellon all the more determined to break the orc's spell on his teacher.

A lone horse whinnied at the far edge of the clearing, and Dellon made his unsteady way to the steed, mounting quickly and turning his horse towards the nearest village. Magistrate Aradhel would hear of this, and Lord Faramir also.

Dellon would see this through to the bitter end. He would hunt them down on his own, if he had to. Cadoc would pay for his perversion, and Dellon would see that she-orc flayed alive for defiling him.

"This isn't done," Dellon whispered into the gathering night.

* * *

**Translations**

_hoitataath:_  'hunt dog', tracking hounds, in (my 'verse) the orcish word for trackers in a military unit, though that is not how it is used here.

 


	33. A Matter of Fact

**Chapter Thirty-Three: A Matter of Fact**

_**AN:** _ _Oof, what a long break! There will be another while after this chapter. I have a lot of work this summer, but I will do my best to try not to make the next wait quite so long._

* * *

They had traveled for the better part of two days before stopping to rest among the secluded highlands of western Ithilien. Taking no chances, Hedon had pushed their boat to float listlessly downriver and they had been careful to traverse rockier ground and shallow rivers, making tracking them much more difficult. Still, it was hard for Cadoc to shake the unease that settled on him, and Rukhash's demeanor brought him no comfort. She had barely spoken two words in two days. He had hoped her flair of temper would have passed by now, and while he wanted to speak to her, there was no opportune moment with Hedon among them.

It was a relief, though, to have his old friend with them. Considering their precarious situation, Cadoc could do without a heart to heart with Rukhash for another day if it meant having an extra eye to look out. Hedon took a great risk to himself and his family by helping them, and Cadoc found himself grateful again for his friend's steadfast nature.

They set camp under a wide rocky ledge that was situated among dense forest to hide their fire. The night was warm and wet and clouds had gathered overhead, hiding the moon from sight. As Hedon lit a fire to beat back the gloom, Cadoc removed his boots, shaking some loose stones from the inside. His feet were killing him, and he imagined Hedon and Rukhash felt the same. Their pace had been nearly frantic since they crossed the river.

Rukhash kept her back to him as she unpacked the carefully wrapped bundles of what remained of their traveling supplies. They would need to procure more soon. Hedon had brought some food with him, but they were generally running low. There were a few, less savory groups settled nearby. Cadoc did not relish having to barter for food in a settlement full of rouges and thieves, but with a bounty on his head, their options would be somewhat limited.

Though he wanted to discuss with Hedon what transpired in their village after his departure in more detail, as he watched the tense shoulders of his wife, Cadoc silently hoped Hedon would take first watch. Rukhash was not as loquacious with an audience around, and Cadoc wanted to make amends with her. He did not regret sparing his former pupil, but he did wonder why she had taken such grievous offense to that act of mercy. Rukhash had never struck Cadoc as being particularly bloodthirsty, certainly her mercy towards Baladnor proved that. Cadoc found himself struggling to understand why she would be angry about sparing Dellon. That zealous young man had caused her much less grief than the former orc hunter, and while Cadoc was aware of the dangers that Dellon represented, killing him would make them no less hunted.

Cadoc wanted to tell her all of this, but instead remained silent as she rose to her feet, her longbow slung over her shoulder, and began walking toward the small ledge overlooking their campsite. "I'll keep an eye out first," she said flatly before disappearing past a cluster of tall bushes and into the pitch of night.

Hedon glanced up from the fire as he tossed a few large logs in, giving Cadoc a shrewd look. "She appears to still be angry with you."

Huffing quietly, Cadoc gathered up the dried meat Rukhash had set aside and began cutting it into a pot of water. It was far too tough to eat uncooked. "She can certainly hold a grudge when she is in the mind to do so," Cadoc mumbled. "I will speak with her when she is in a more amiable mood."

"I have to say that I understand her perspective on the matter," Hedon said quietly as Cadoc placed the pot over the fire.

Glaring, Cadoc sat back on his heels and regarded his friend darkly. "You think I should have let her  _kill_  Dellon? You cannot have expected that I would allow her to murder that boy while he was unconscious."

"No," Hedon replied in a knowing tone. "That is the last thing I would have expected of you."

A serious frown crossed over Cadoc's features. "We fought alongside him for years."

"We  _trained_  him," Hedon argued, sitting up and matching Cadoc's dark expression with one of his own. "And he did not take to that training particularly well. It is not your fault he was attacked. He was a spoiled son of a wealthy family who thought he knew better than us..."

"He did not deserve what happened to him," Cadoc swallowed roughly. " _No one_  deserves such a fate."

Hedon sat back against the rocky wall behind him and sighed. "I did not say he deserved to be assaulted, but he was still foolish to ride ahead of us. For all of his conviction, Dellon has never been a sensible individual. Before he was attacked, he would argue against killing orcs on moral grounds despite the real dangers they presented to the people of Ithilien, and now he would murder every one of them, regardless of whether they are causing trouble or not. There is a difference between protecting the public and revenge."

"You were very ready to kill Rukhash when you first met her," Cadoc replied. "Or have you forgotten your first meeting with her?"

An uncomfortable look crossed Hedon's face. "That was an entirely different circumstance." Cadoc raised a brow at him and Hedon cleared his throat. "I will admit that I was suspicious of her without just cause. She is an orc, Cadoc. Were you any more trusting of her motives when you first met her?" Cadoc was silent at that, a thoughtful look on his face, and Hedon pressed on. "However, I had no intension of  _torturing_ her to death. Dellon may dress up what he does in whatever moral stand he likes. It does not change the fact that he is no different from the orcs he hunts. You have heard the stories, Cadoc. He earned his moniker for a reason."

A long, silent moment passed over the pair of them. Cadoc watched the fire lick along the base of the steel pot, a lump forming in his throat. This was a conversation he did not expect to have with Hedon, though in many ways it did not surprise him. The younger ranger had never been overly fond of Dellon, and the pair of them had not gotten along when they rode together. Hedon ignored the boy, for the most part, but there were a number of arguments along the way as well. "Would  _you_ have let her kill him?" Cadoc asked.

"No," Hedon said vehemently, almost offended. "I am not  _agreeing_ with her, Cadoc. I only said that I understand her perspective. That boy is  _dangerous_ , and he is not in short supply of men that will assist him in hunting you. It is why I intend to see Lord Faramir once I leave the pair of you."

Blinking, Cadoc regarded Hedon with surprise. "What do you hope to accomplish by doing  _that_?"

"I hope to clear the air on this matter!" Hedon said, exasperated by the whole affair. "Halbard has been relieved of his position by Magistrate Aradhel, who has taken over his jurisdiction." A troubled frown crossed Cadoc's features, but Hedon pressed on. They did not have much opportunity to discuss this during their travel, but now Hedon intended to lay it all out for Cadoc. "Halbard and three of the guards serving under him have gone to Minas Tirith to take the matter up with King Elessar himself. Baladnor has even agreed to accompany them, along with Ingrid."

If Cadoc was surprised before, he was even more so now. " _Baladnor_  is speaking on our behalf?"

"Say what you want about the man," Hedon said with a shrug, "and I know you have many, less flattering words regarding him on your tongue, but he is not ungrateful. They travel with missives from your sister and Elador and even Auron, who has confirmed that it was  _medicine_  that Rukhash was giving you, not some kind of magical potion."

"And Magistrate Aradhel would not hear such testimony?" Cadoc asked, somewhat baffled by an obvious omission of evidence.

"Aradhel is an ignorant old fool," Hedon said darkly, "who cares more for a man's linage than his character. He was quick to condemn your Dunland blood and take Barmund at his word that Rukhash is some manner of orcish witch. It was a gross breach in protocol. If you ask me, Barmund pulled more than one string to have you condemned. How a man like Aradhel holds office above Halbard is beyond my understanding, but I have never followed such politics very closely."

"This whole affair will sort itself out," Hedon explained, a hopeful look on his face, "but it will take  _time._ It will be a few weeks yet until Halbard will reach the capital and have his audience. Meanwhile, you two have a bounty on your heads. Rukhash is wanted dead, and while your bounty is higher if you are alive, the warrant put out will accept your corpse as easily as your capture. I am hoping that Lord Faramir will hear me out and overturn this ruling and offer you a chance to explain yourself."

Cadoc felt a flame of anger well up in him. "And what, exactly, do I have to  _explain_? I have already written my letter of resignation. After all these years of serving Gondor, certainly I am entitled to a peaceful retirement."

Hedon pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing quietly with frustration. "Cadoc," he said with sigh, "you have left your post of many decades and are calling an  _orc_  your wife. You do not think your lord might ask for some justification for this behavior?"

"I do not see why it is anyone else's business outside of Rukhash and myself," Cadoc replied tightly, rising to his feet. He walked a few paces towards the edge of the ring of light. His chest felt tight with frustration.

"It isn't," Hedon conceded to his friend's back, "but people are choosing to  _make it_  their business. Honestly, Cadoc, did you expect there would be no repercussions from this?"

Turning, Cadoc regarded Hedon with a furious expression. "No!" he nearly shouted. "Certainly, I did not expect anything close to  _this_. I knew she wouldn't be safe here, Hedon, but I did not expect to be branded a criminal for a choice that is  _mine to make_."

"Then you fail to see her for what she is," Hedon said, standing as well. He could not believe Cadoc was being so naive. "She is an orc, Cadoc."

" _I know she is an orc_!" Cadoc nearly roared. "I have known that from the moment that I met her. It does not change the fact that she has saved my life, or that I care for her more than I care for my own fate, or that I want to spend my life with her. What she is does not define  _who_  she is."

"Yes, it does," Hedon whispered harshly. "You saw that two days ago when she was ready to kill Dellon without a second thought."

"I thought you 'understood her perspective'," Cadoc argued.

"I do, and it is a ruthless perspective! One that does not take into account what is  _right_ , only what is most advantageous to oneself." Hedon was somewhat surprised this was the direction their conversation had turned. He promised himself that he would not argue Cadoc concerning his choice, but Hedon was consistently astounded by the older man's refusal to acknowledge Rukhash's nature. Hedon did not dislike the orcess, and Cadoc was obviously a good influence on her, but Hedon was very aware of what she was capable of. He was surprised Cadoc was not of the same mind. "Sometimes I wonder if you wish to deny the less favorable attributes of her people to justify your decision."

"You're bein' sort a loud don't ya think?" Rukhash's rough voice growled from the edge of the shadows. Turning stiffly to face her, Hedon was only able to make out the bright glow of her eyes as they reflected the firelight. "Seein' that we've got a load a' angry, sword weildin' cunts on our arse, maybe you two should keep it down." She spared Hedon a dirty look before turning and disappearing through the narrow crack in the stone wall that led to her lookout.

Cadoc made a move to follow her, but Hedon stopped him with a raised hand. "I will apologize," he said with an air of annoyance. He didn't really think he had anything to apologize for, but he also did not wish to quarrel with Rukhash. It would be another day or two before they were near a village where Hedon could secure a mount, and he wasn't sure he could bear two more days of brooding silence from the orcess or from Cadoc.

The crevice she vanished through opened slightly to an inclined path that led upwards towards the height of the overhang that sheltered their camp. Rukhash had perched herself towards the far end, overlooking the tops of the trees that surrounded them. Considering her sharp night vision, the orcess would be able to detect movement in the forest for miles around. The birch and pine that made up the foliage below were not so lush that they hid the ground, and with the moon breaking from the dark cloud cover, spotting the approach of a group, especially a group of Men on horses, would not be difficult. She had chosen an advantageous spot, and Hedon took a moment to appreciate her wise choice before coming to stand stiffly behind her.

The orcess's ear tilted back, but she made no move to turn and face him. Hedon did not let it phase him. Nándra had given him the silent treatment before. It appeared to be a common tactic among women, even, it would seem, orc women. "I am sorry if I insulted you," Hedon said, not sounding particularly sorry at all.

Glaring over her shoulder, Rukhash narrowed her eyes at him. "No you ain't."

Coming to stand alongside the boulder she was seated on, Hedon gazed out over the quiet landscape in front of them. He was aware of her harsh stare following his every movement. "I am not sorry for what I said," Hedon clarified, his voice even, though he did not turn to face her, "but I  _am_  sorry if it caused you insult. If we are going to be traveling together, then it would be better if we are able to get along."

Sensing movement from the corner of his eye, Hedon turned his head and found Rukhash crouched where she had been sitting, her bow tucked into the crook of one arm while the other rested against her knee. Her jaw was clenched tight, angry, but her expression was a thoughtful one. She regarded him for a long time in silence, and Hedon found himself shift under her appraisal.

"Here I thought you an' I were almost chummy," she said flatly and Hedon did not miss the sarcasm in her voice.

Clearing his throat, Hedon swallowed roughly. "I have told you before that I do not trust you," he told her. "I still do not trust you. You may be a gentler example of your kind, but that does not make you any less dangerous. I am here to help Cadoc, and since he is determined to stay with you, then I will help you as well, but that does not make us 'chummy'."

Rukhash stood to her full height. Even with the help of the small boulder underneath her, she stood just at eye level with Hedon. Still, there was something in the she orc's posture that made the small hairs on the back of Hedon's neck rise, and his hand unconsciously came to rest on the hilt of his sword. Rukhash noted the movement with a wry smile.

"That's awful kind a' you," she said roughly, "callin' me 'gentle,' what with me bein' so ruthless an' bloodthirsty."

"I never said you were  _bloodthirsty_ ," Hedon argued. "If you had heard the whole conversation-"

"I heard it!" Rukhash hissed under her breath. "I feel bad fer what happened to the Magistrate. Halbard were a stand up bloke an' he shouldn't a' caught so much shit on my account." Leaning towards him, Rukhash narrowed her eyes. "You think you know about  _orcs_ , yeah? Think you've got us fingered? That you know what drives us? You ever even  _talk_ to an orc 'fore you met me?"

"On more than one occasion," Hedon said quietly. "When I was a small lad, before I was taken in as a ward of the Rangers, I accompanied my father on many of his less savory endeavors. He trekked often with your people, either selling them stolen goods or helping them in their thievery." Hedon matched the orcesses accusing glare with his own. "I have seen an orc mother singing to her children before tossing them a wounded victim, laughing as she did so. I saw those imps tear apart a merchant unfortunate enough to survive an orcish robbery while their dam  _laughed_. I know what your people do, what you are capable of! Cadoc knows! He has seen the aftermath first hand. Why he persists in following you baffles me beyond reason."

A wounded look crossed Rukhash's face and Hedon knew she had no curt reply to that. She very well might have been like that one orc female he witnessed as a boy. Orcs were about as gentle as wild dogs, and Hedon felt, not for the first time, that he was overly fortunate to be rescued from a life lived alongside them when his father was arrested.

"I realize," Hedon said in a gentler tone, "that your time spent with Cadoc and his family has changed your perspective on many things, but that does not change what you  _are_ , and it never will. The fact that you are furious with Cadoc for not allowing you to commit murder proves it."

"I ain't mad at him," she huffed, straitening her shoulders. "I know why he done what he done. I understand why he stopped me. I  _were_  mad at first, but I understand him an' me..." Rukhash paused, a troubled look on her face. "Sometimes, we don't look at things the same way," she finished quietly. Her eyes were welling up as she turned her head to fix her gaze on the forest below, and Hedon shifted anxiously. He had no intension of making her  _cry_ , but he had been carrying such knowledge with him since he learned of Cadoc's relationship with the orcess. It had weighed on him heavily. After the pair of them left, there were nights that Hedon could barely sleep, and it was worse after Dellon had come calling.

"I'd do  _anything_  fer him..." the orcess whispered, her voice hoarse.

"I know," Hedon said, removing his hand from his sword and reaching over to pat her shoulder awkwardly.

"I just want... ta be with him," she hiccuped, covering her face. "I want ta give him kids an' look after 'im an' be his  _shaûk_. I'm so tired a' runnin' and fightin'..." She was crying in ernest now, and Hedon found himself frustrated with her wild emotions. Cadoc was very protective of Rukhash, and Hedon did not wish to have another argument with his friend regarding her.

Pushing aside the fact that this 'apology' had gotten remarkably out of hand, Hedon searched for something to say that would cheer her up. "He is determined to have those things with you, also, and so far nothing had deterred him from that course. Certainly that must bring you some comfort."

Sniffing Rukhash nodded and Hedon returned his hand to his side. He stood by her for several moments more while she regained her composure before turning to leave. "Didn't know you spent any time with my folk aside from killin' 'em," Rukhash said thoughtfully.

Stopping to turn towards her, Hedon sighed. This was not an aspect of his life that he was proud of. "I was very young, and I hardly relish having had such an experience," Hedon told her. "My father was a cruel man, and he kept cruel company. I was fortunate to be removed from such an influence."

"You ever go back?" she asked him, though her tone was even, not accusing, her posture was stiff and anxious. "Make that poor girl pay fer what she done?"

"I didn't have to," Hedon admitted. "The Rangers hunting my father caught up with him. They slaughtered the orcs he was doing business with."

Rukhash turned to him with a miserable expression. "An' you think she deserved it, do you?"

"Did that unfortunate man deserve to be torn apart by her children?" Hedon returned. The orcess remained silent. "I believe that she earned her fate. If she had kept to herself, then no one would have come for her."

A permanent frown came to settle on Rukhash's face. "So that's how ya feel about all of us?"

"You and I, we are not friends, orc," Hedon told her somberly. "I am sympathetic to your situation, and to what you have suffered, but I cannot say that I like you. I would prefer our discourse remain civil for Cadoc's sake, but I struggle often to understand what it is that Cadoc sees in you."

Turning back towards the rolling landscape beyond her post, Rukhash returned to her seat and Hedon turned again to leave. Though her voice was low, Hedon was just able to make out her response. "Maybe he's lookin' harder than you are."

"Maybe he is," Hedon said over his shoulder, and left it at that. It was not the conversation he had aimed to have with her, but it was better to clear the air between them.

Hedon returned to their campsite to find Cadoc stirring a boiling pot, hoping to make something edible with what they had on hand. It smelled promising enough. If it was anyone else, Hedon might have suspected them of eavesdropping, but he knew better when it came to Cadoc. Such things were not in his nature.

"You were up there for a while," Cadoc said offhandedly. "I take it the two of you have made amends."

"We've come to an understanding," Hedon said vaguely as he settled beside his friend, not meeting the older man's eyes.

Cadoc did not press the issue, and continued his vigil over their supper. They passed the time making idle conversation over their route. Hedon noted the village he would be heading towards and Cadoc let him know what amendments he intended to make to his route now that he and Rukhash would be pursued. It was another hour before the thin broth was finished cooking. Cadoc ladled out a bowl for Hedon before making one for Rukhash and himself. Stuffing two squares of hard tack into his pocket, he made for the path that led to Rukhash's perch.

"I'll take next watch," Cadoc announced as he stood, his bearing anxious, and Hedon realized that he still thought that Rukhash was cross with him.

"She isn't angry with you," Hedon said, hoping to lighten his friend's mood. "Actually, she is probably more angry with me."

Cadoc spared Hedon a knowing look. "Why is that?"

"Our conversation was not exactly... friendly," Hedon admitted.

With a long suffering sigh, Cadoc struggled through the narrow crevice, trying not to spill what little food they had, and headed up the path towards Rukhash. It was not as if Cadoc expected Hedon and Rukhash to strike up a close friendship, but he would have appreciated if his friend was more tactful when dealing with the woman he cared for. Rukhash could be difficult at times, but she was not a  _monster_ ; a thing that was somehow unworthy of care or affection. Cadoc was very aware of what separated the two of them, but he was often frustrated that no one could see what it was that kept them together.

Though he could only see her back from his approach, he could tell she was tense and that brought an indefinable unhappiness to him. Her ear swiveled back at the sound of his boots on the loose, stony ground and Cadoc felt a familiar affection for their differences. "I brought dinner," he said lightly. "Such as it is."

"Ain't feelin' real hungry," she said quietly as she shifted in her seat.

Ignoring her protest, Cadoc came to sit beside her. The precipice was much brighter than their shadowy camp, and he had a good view of her face in the white moonlight. He hated how morose she looked. "You really should eat something," he said gently as he passed her the bowl. She looked at the contents and frowned. "I know it is an abysmal prospect, but we are low on supplies."

Rukhash continued to stare at the thin broth as Cadoc laid a square of tack near her knee. "I know you are angry with me," he said quietly. "I only ask that you understand my reasons..." Whatever Cadoc thought to say was cut short by the look Rukhash fixed him with. She looked as though she was nearly ready to cry.

Placing her bowl to the side, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself into his lap, tucking her face into the crook of her neck. Cadoc was so stunned by her reaction he nearly didn't hear what she was whispering against his pulse. " _Gotlizish,"_ she said, over and over, and Cadoc felt warm wetness against his skin.

Putting his own bowl to the side Cadoc wrapped his arms around her. "Rukhash..." Cadoc soothed, but she clung to him even tighter. Cadoc could barely decipher what she was saying, but she kept apologizing to him in between the less recognizable orcish she was hiccuping. If Cadoc had known she was this unsettled, he would not have made her sit up here alone for so long.

A quiet, defeated sound issued from the back of Rukhash's throat and she ceased speaking altogether. Now, she sobbed quietly, stopping occasionally to catch her breath in great, hiccuping gulps before launching into another round and he could think of nothing else to do aside from rocking her gently and rubbing the hollow between her shoulder blades. Cadoc was furious. What did Hedon  _say_  to her?

Her breath calmed to occasional hitching, and Cadoc gently pried her from his shoulder to look at her face. "Rukhash," Cadoc said softly, "what are you apologizing for?"

She couldn't meet his eyes. "You shouldn't be wit' me," she sniffed. "I ain't done nothin' but cause you trouble since you met me."

"Rukhash," Cadoc argued "I would be dead if you had not saved me."

"I killed people Cadoc," she said miserably, starting to tear up again. "I deserved what happened; losin' my family. We got what was comin' to us. I shoulda went back to my cave and left you alone. I don't deserve a  _shaûk_  like you. I shouldn't get ta be a mum again. You should go back to yer boss an' tell him you made a mistake. I ain't nothin' but a mistake."

Feeling a little speechless, Cadoc opened and closed his mouth a few times before finding his voice. "You are not a  _mistake_. Did Hedon tell you this?"

"He didn't have ta say nothin'." She was working herself up again. "It just  _is_. I don't bring nothin' but misery wherever I go." She burst into tears and Cadoc blinked, exasperated.

Honestly, what was she  _talking_ about? Cadoc might have been amused by her dramatics if she was not so, obviously serious. "Come here," Cadoc sighed as he pulled her against his chest. She sagged bonelessly against him. "You have not brought me misery. You haven't brought  _anyone_  misery."

"I can- think a' at least twelve blokes that'd disagree," she said unsteadily.

Sighing, Cadoc rested his cheek on her crown. "Is that how many men you have killed?" he asked her quietly and felt her nod. "Are you sorry now for killing them?"

"Not all of 'em," she admitted.

"Why not?"

"Cause some of em were tryin' ta kill me," she sniffed, "but not all of 'em."

"And are you sorry for the killing the men that you did not slay in self defense?" he asked.

Rukhash said nothing for a long minute, but her breathing had evened out. "I don't want you ta hate me," she whispered against his shirt.

"It is not possible for me to hate you," Cadoc told her, pressing his lips against her hair. "You can tell me the truth, Rukhash. I will not hate you for it."

"I ain't happy I done it," she said, "but I ain't sorry neither. I..." she paused, swallowing. Pulling away from him, she med his eyes with a horrified expression. "I used ta think it all were funny. I don't think it's funny no more, but I don't feel bad fer it. Not a bit. There's somethin' wrong with that, ain't there? I shouldn't feel  _nothin'._ "

"You are upset because you do not feel guilty for something you think you should feel guilty for?" Cadoc ventured. Rukhash blinked, considering that statement for a moment, and nodded. "Would you do it again?" Cadoc asked. "Would you kill a man for no reason other than it suited you?"

Rukhash shook her head vehemently. "Never."

"Then that is enough." Cadoc ran his thumb across the wet trails on her face, wiping them away. "We cannot take back what we have done, but we can endeavor not to repeat past mistakes."

Nodding Rukhash took a steadying breath and then launched herself around his neck. "I don't deserve you," she whispered.

Sighing, Cadoc pulled her from his neck, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Rukhash," he told her seriously, "I have made my own mistakes in life. Some I regret, and some I do not. I am in no position to condemn you for yours or how you feel about them. There are few people in this life who  _are_  in such a position."

Nodding, Rukhash caught his mouth with hers and lingered there for a long minute, though the kiss remained chaste. When she pulled back, Cadoc shook his head ruefully. "You should eat something."

She frowned at the bowl of broth and the tack sitting next to her, a sick expression on her face. "I ain't real hungry," she said.

"I will not tell you what to do," Cadoc sighed, ever wary of her stubbornness, "but you have barely eaten these past few days. You should really try to eat something."

Rukhash rolled off of his lap and picked up the bowl with a forlorn expression. "My stomach's in knots," she grumbled, looking up at him with a pout that would have melted a weaker man's resolve.

"At least  _try,"_  Cadoc entreated.

Rallying herself, Rukhash lifted the tack to her lips and took a grimacing bite. They ate in silence. Occasionally Cadoc would glimpse towards Rukhash and found her glowering at the soup or struggling with another mouthful. He had nearly finished his own meal when he glanced over and noticed that Rukhash looked as though she might be ill. "Is it that bad?" he asked. Cadoc thought he had done a decent job of making the dried meat edible.

She didn't answer him. Jumping to her feet, Rukhash rushed over to the nearest shrub, doubled over and heaved into the roots. Concerned, Cadoc rose and followed her, rubbing slow circles on her back as she spat a few times. "Are you all right?" Cadoc said, alarmed.

"Ugh," Rukhash turned and spat again before wiping her face. "'At's what I get fer gettin' all wound up," she grumbled. "It's okay," she said, batting his hand away. "I feel better now. Think I'll finish what's left."

She bounding back towards the boulder with a spring in her step and Cadoc shook his head, bemused, as Rukhash swallowed what remained of her dinner in three easy gulps and popped the remaining half of tack in her mouth, chewing loudly. She really was going to kill him one day. Probably with shock. Returning to her side, Cadoc told her he would take second watch. Not feeling inclined to sleep alone near to Hedon, Rukhash curled into a ball next to Cadoc and promptly fell asleep, half pillowed on his lap.

Cadoc wasn't sure how he felt about her admission, but he found he could not be angry with her. In a way, it was better to know what she had done. Cadoc was not sure he was ready to be as forthcoming with Rukhash as she had been with him. He had killed far more orcs than she had men and had not felt guilty about it at the time. Even now, that guilt was dull and far away, as if those slaughters were met out by another man.

Brushing a curl of dark hair off of his wife's face, Cadoc looked out into the darkness and watched.


	34. Little Shadow

**Splint  
Chapter 34: Little Shadow**

* * *

_"The child has trekked with orcs and murderers," Tinuon said bluntly, as he nodded to a young boy mucking the stables. The youth had a haunted look about his face, and Cadoc could believe that he had seen many things that a child was not meant to see._

_Cadoc turned towards his newly appointed mentor with a frown. "Why is he here?"_

_"Because his father is dead. He was sentenced to hang." Tinuon did not bother to lower his voice as they approached. Cadoc imagined the boy could hear every word. "Lord Boromir thought it would be a kindness to raise the boy among us, so he might see how honorable men live."_

_Turning his attention towards the child, Tinuon nodded curtly. "Fetch our horses Hedon," he ordered. Hedon spared the pair of them a hateful look before disappearing into the stables._

_"Perhaps," Cadoc muttered, just loud enough for Tinuon to hear, "he might understand the honor of men better if he were treated with a little more respect,"_

_The older man fixed him with a dark glare. "You are fortunate, Cadoc son of Belon, that your grandfather had the lofty standing that he did among the rangers. I doubt very much a young man of Dunland descent would be so easily accepted into this order if he did not have the deeds of a respected forefather to back him. That boy will have respect once he has earned it, as will you, Dunlending."_

_Cadoc wasn't exactly sure what had happened. One moment, Tinuon had been speaking to him, looking down his long, narrow nose at Cadoc with the same disdain many of the other village boys had dealt him when he was younger. The next, he was on his back in the muck outside of the stables. Cadoc blinked at his still-balled fist. Did he just_ strike _his new instructor?_

_Quiet snickering alerted Cadoc to Hedon's presence at the stable door. "Trust me," the boy said with a quirky, gap toothed smirk, "that ol' fart had it comin'."_

_Cadoc was very fortunate that it was a newly initiated Lord Faramir that heard him out as opposed to the sterner, less generous Lord Boromir. Cadoc had been punished for losing his temper, sent to muck the stables with Hedon and tend the less savory chores around the fort while other trainees went off to actually learn how to do the real work of ranging. It was a sting to his pride, but he accepted the consequences of his actions as gracefully as he could._

_Tinuon, on the other hand, had received a much sterner punishment. "We will see if you are so choosey of who stands beside you when you are fighting on the front," Lord Faramir had told him, his eyes stony. The border between Ithilien and Mordor was a dangerous place, and many good men fell there. Tinuon's face was pale when he rode out the next day._

* * *

"I gotta piss."

Turning, Hedon glared at the small orcess keeping pace behind him and Cadoc. This was the third time Rukhash had requested a rest stop since they broke camp. It was barely noon. Was her bladder the size of a walnut? "Again?" Hedon said, exasperated.

"Well, I gotta!" the orcess whined petulantly pressing her knees together as they came to a stop.

"Go on," Cadoc nodded to her. "We'll be here."

Dropping her heavy pack and bow, Rukhash bounded into the undergrowth, disappearing behind a wide tree. Cadoc was relieved she was being so thoughtful. The first few weeks of their travel, she would barely step off the path before relieving herself. Now that Hedon accompanied them, Cadoc was glad she had the presence of mind to be discreet. He knew from those early months living with her, Rukhash was not shy about her person; no matter how uncomfortable it made other people.

Hedon was staring into the middle distance, an annoyed look on his face. He had changed from his disguise to his normal, ranger attire: a dark green cloak coupled with a drab vest and trousers. The blue cloak he had passed to Cadoc. Too many people would be looking for a ranger and a strange companion, and the less conspicuous Cadoc was, the better. Though his second hand clothing was a bit on the large side, it would serve the purpose of hiding Cadoc's face.

He had not asked Hedon what transpired between him and Rukhash the night before and Rukhash had not elaborated once she woke that morning. It was probably better not to know, but the tension between the two of them was frustrating.

Hedon's experiences as a youth were well known to Cadoc. When he first began training, his mentors were quick to elaborate on the presence of the young boy in their midst, an acquired ward from a villainous man that had wreaked havoc in much of Ithilien and Southern Gondor. According to the rangers, Hedon was a sullen boy who rarely spoke, and all assumed him a lost cause.

Cadoc couldn't get him to  _stop_  talking. Over the weeks of Cadoc's punishment, he worked alongside Hedon, and struck up a real friendship with the boy. For whatever reason, Hedon felt he had a confidant. He imparted every horrible excursion his father had ever dragged him on, and Cadoc felt his sympathy go out to this poor lad, who had seen more in his seven years than many grown men three times his age.

When it was time for Hedon to train in swordsmanship and bowmanship, Cadoc quickly volunteered to be his teacher. The boy followed him everywhere, from his ranging through dangerous Ithilien to his home in Lebennin, where he met Cadoc's mother and sister, and was afforded the first look he'd ever had of a stable, loving home. They had remained friends ever since, and Cadoc could honestly say that he had never known a man of greater steadfastness or courage. The king himself might be hard pressed to match Hedon in such areas.

Cadoc realized that this must be hard for him. Aside from Hedon's dubious relations with Rukhash's race, they had been comrades for much of their lives. Hedon was the closest thing Cadoc had to a brother. Leaving him behind would be as difficult as leaving the rest of his family.

"Hedon..." Cadoc, startled the younger man from whatever dark thought plagued him. "I want you to know," he continued, "that we will still be friends, no matter where my road takes me."

"Of course we will," Hedon replied with an uneasy nod.

"And I know," Cadoc went on, pleased that Rukhash was not heading back, even as he began to worry at her prolonged absence, "that you do not particularly care for her, but I would ask you to try and understand my choice to stay with her, even if you do not understand my choice in a partner."

With a long sigh, Hedon fixed his gaze ahead. "If it were Nándra, I would follow her wherever she needed me to go."

That brought a smile to Cadoc's lips. Hedon had loved Nándra from the moment he laid eyes on her in the village market. "Then, you understand."

Sighing again, Hedon shook his head. Rukhash was heading back towards them, her grumbling becoming audible as she trudged closer. "Barely," he admitted before turning and walking down the narrow trail.

Coming to stand beside Cadoc, Rukhash looked from him to Hedon's retreating back before shouldering her rucksack and bow. " _Still tied in his chest_?" she asked in orcish as she fell into step.

It was a stilted language when it came to expressing more nuanced feelings, but Cadoc caught her meaning. "I hope not," he answered in the common tongue.

Rukhash frowned at Cadoc's back as she continued to follow him. She had been sick again after relieving herself; the bout of nausea coming on as quickly as it left. It wasn't as hot today as it had been, but the glaring sun was still bothering her and the air was heavy with an approaching storm. Pulling her hood over her eyes a little further, Rukhash silently cursed the sun.

* * *

The clouds seemed to roll over them in the span of a heartbeat. A boom of thunder sounded overhead before the sky opened up in a torrential downpour, soaking them through in a matter of seconds. Swearing, Hedon and Cadoc hurried towards the face of a high cliff, where a small overhang would provide them with some shelter.

Still feeling woozy, Rukhash followed them at a more leisurely pace. Rain had never bothered her, and if she were not feeling so ill, she might have laughed out loud at the sight of two grown men dashing through the rain as though it were poison. They were lucky this region was so mountainous. What would those two do if they were stuck in the middle of a flat plain?

Smiling as she approached the pair of them, Rukhash shook her head and giggled. "Afraid of a bit a water, yeah?" She smiled as she tucked herself under the narrow shelf and dropped her pack to the ground. "It's jus' a little rain," she added as she shook out her cloak.

"I prefer not to be soaked to the bone," Hedon said sourly as he twisted the ends of his own cloak.

"You could get sick, walking around in such a storm," Cadoc said soberly as he stared out past the narrow ledge. Another round of thunder sounded, and with a flash of light the rain began to pour down in earnest, obscuring the landscape around them in a curtain of water.

Snorting, Rukhash wiped her eyes of the fine spray misting in her face. "It takes more'n 'at ta get an orc sick," she said in a haughty tone. Her stomach gurgled angrily in reply.

Frowning, Rukhash turned away from her companions, hurrying along the rocky ledge in an attempt to put some distance between them before she doubled over and vomited for what seemed like an eternity. Straightening for a moment, she just managed to catch her breath before a second, violent round hit her. There was barely anything in her stomach at this point, just old traveling tack and water. Most of her effort was wasted on dry heaving. With a few, ragged coughs that seemed to make the sour taste in her mouth even worse, she righted herself. At least she had chosen a decent spot to be sick on. The water rushed down the rocks and washed most of the former contents of her stomach away. It was a small relief. At least the smell wouldn't linger and make her feel worse.

Cadoc's large hand clasped suddenly on her shoulder. Rukhash nearly jumped out of her skin. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

She spat to the side before taking a breath and facing his worried expression. "Yeah," she said, annoyed that she didn't hear him come up behind her. The rain was deafening and the thunder wasn't helping matters. "Dinner last night didn't set in well," she added. Another rumble rolled across the sky and Rukhash pinned her ears back to muffle the noise.

"I'm fine," she assured Cadoc again when his expression didn't change, though she didn't really feel fine at all. She felt suddenly exhausted,  _and_  she had to pee again. Hedon was looking over at her. Though his face was more confused than anything, there was a little line of worry on his brow. She was grateful for his help against Dellon, but now she wished he had buggered off after. He had done nothing but upset her and worry Cadoc and now he was getting in the way of her taking a piss, and she  _really_  needed to go all of a sudden. The constant patter of rain on stone was not helping.

"Cadoc," Rukhash mumbled quietly, "I gotta go."

"What do you mean?"

Cadoc's blank look made Rukhash want to scream. "You  _know_ ," she said, gesturing helplessly towards Hedon, who was still staring at her, bemused. "I gotta  _piss_ ," she hissed, annoyed with the both of them.

"Oh," Cadoc's brows rose nearly to his hairline. Maneuvering towards Hedon, he whispered something Rukhash couldn't hear and the two of them politely turned to look the other way.

Squatting and shifting her loincloth awkwardly to the side, Rukhash managed to do her business on the narrow slip of rock without splashing her boots. Standing and fixing her clothes, she shuffled along the wall to where the pair of men stood, staring into the dense rain as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

The race of Men was utterly baffling. She hoped they realized she was being modest for  _their_ benefit. If it was a pair of orc lads with her, they wouldn't give her bodily needs a second thought. Maybe a particularly queer sod might leer at her, but no one would be idly pretending she wasn't ten feet away taking a leak. It seemed so utterly silly that she was nearly tempted to laugh again, but decided against it as she casually leaned next to Cadoc and joined the pair in staring at the rain.

The three of them stood in awkward, throat-clearing silence for another twenty minutes. By then, the rain had trailed off to a peppering, and the sky was beginning to lighten, the rumbling thunder a distant threat.

They had been walking for a little over an hour before Rukhash had to pee again. Infuriated with herself – she had barely a drop to drink since the rain stopped – she staunchly did her best to ignore it. She managed to do this for another half hour as she listened to Hedon and Cadoc discuss varying populaces of nearby villages, trying to decide which one would be the least conspicuous stop for supplies. Finally, part way through a clearing in the tree growth, Rukhash decided she simply did  _not_  have the ability to go another step without wetting herself, and dashed off the path to duck behind a convenient rock.

Hedon and Cadoc must not have noticed, because their voices continued to get further away while she quickly finished. She was able to catch up without them noticing her absence. After a pleased moment of quietly praising her own stealthiness, Rukhash scowled to herself. What was  _wrong_  with her today? She didn't have any trouble keeping up with the set rest stops after crossing the river, when they were at a flat run. She was drinking twice as much water then. True, the sun had made her feel sick a few times, but she hadn't emptied the contents of her stomach once until last night. She had felt remarkably tired lately, but they were traveling constantly. Rukhash imagined Hedon and Cadoc were just as tired as she was. She just felt  _awful_. She hadn't felt this awful this suddenly since she was pregnant with Rangmau.

Stopping in her tracks, Rukhash blinked, her mouth suddenly dry.

"Rukhash?" Cadoc had turned. Both he and Hedon were staring at her.

Shaking herself, Rukhash mustered her most charming smile. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Just sorta wandered off in my 'ead." With another toothy grin, she picked up the pace so she was walking alongside them.

The two of them picked their conversation up wherever they had left off, but Rukhash was hardly paying attention, making a meticulous mental note of the past few weeks. She couldn't be pregnant. It just wasn't possible. Her heat wouldn't come for another turn of the moon, and she couldn't become pregnant in between. Even if her heat had come early, she would have known. The smell alone would have made her put a halt on any funny business until it passed. She had  _told_  Cadoc this, and it was a cause for great relief on his part. It would be easier for them to plan a family that way.

And that was how it was supposed to be for orcesses. Their limited fertility made it easy for them – when there weren't Other Powers involved in their fate – to gauge how many sprogs would be born a year and decide who would breed and who wouldn't. The only, very limited, exception to this was among Uruk hai females, who occasionally showed their human heritage by becoming randomly fertile, with no overt outward sign, out of season. It had happened to Rukhash's mother when she conceived Rukhash, and it had happened to Drautran and Nazu in the years after they settled on their mountain. Shapag had been furious that they had bred out of turn, but there wasn't much to be done aside from get rid of the sprogs. Shapag was a tough alpha female, but she wasn't completely heartless, and Drautran and Nazu kept their sprogs that year.

Rukhash thought there was, simply, too much orc in her to be subject to this odd exception. Apparently she was wrong.

If she was getting sick now, that would mean she had been pregnant for a few weeks already. Looking back, she thought she could even pinpoint the exact coupling that did it. It would have been not long after they left Cadoc's village. Biting her lip, she mentally checked over her subtle symptoms. How easily she had shirked off her tiredness and her hypersensitivity to the light and heat as normal, and it was, but it should not have hindered her so. It shouldn't have worn her down to the point of exhaustion. Dellon had thrown her off easily, and she had attributed that to his skill, and though he was quite skilled, Rukhash knew she was  _faster_ that that. She should have slit his throat before he had a second to breathe. Then there were her obvious, very recent symptoms. She should not be this sick. The wickedest hangover didn't feel this awful.

 _Stupid_ , she chastised herself angrily. She should have been more careful. She could have been taking a myriad of preventative medicines to avoid this. Glancing around the dense foliage around them, Rukhash realized she recognized several plants that could also remedy it. Frowning, she pressed her hand to her flat belly and cast a subtle glance towards Cadoc as he talked to Hedon.

Rukhash had never been squeamish when it came to taking care of what needed taking care of, no matter how unpleasant. This sprog couldn't have decided to come at a worse time, but somehow, the thought of ending it twisted her gut in a way that had nothing to do with her nausea. She would talk to Cadoc once Hedon had gone off on his own. This was not a decision she felt comfortable making without consulting him.

* * *

The sky was darkening, and Cadoc called for them to stop for the night. Rukhash had become more and more silent as the day progressed, seemingly lost in thought, and Cadoc was curious as to what was bothering her. After finding a suitable shelter – the remnants of an old cottage: a wall with part of the roof still attached and the remains of a chimney – the three of them unpacked their sleeping rolls. Rukhash found enough old, splintered wood and aged logs to get a fire going in the partial hearth, while Hedon headed out to try and catch something worthy of dinner before the sun went down completely.

"Stay with  _her_ ," Hedon said, motioning to Rukhash, when Cadoc tried to insist on coming with him. "If I am caught on my own, no one will make the connection between us. They will simply think I am on my rounds alone this year."

Seeing the wisdom in Hedon's logic, Cadoc reluctantly agreed. He watched his young friend disappear into the woods, his longbow slung over his arm. With a sigh, Cadoc assisted Rukhash in clearing the debris from their camp. Cadoc made a few, cursory checks of the structure that still remained, and feeling pleased that it would not collapse on them if a stiff wind blew, settled next to Rukhash as she sipped delicately from a cup of water. She seemed intensely thoughtful, and Cadoc wondered if their conversation the night before still weighed on her.

At least she seemed to be feeling better. "You're looking a little less green than you were," Cadoc teased lightly, hoping to cheer her up with some gentle nudging. Dinner the night prior did not affect Cadoc and Hedon adversely, but that did not mean Rukhash did not chance upon a bad cut of meat. He felt horrible that he might have made her ill.

With a small, unsure smile, Rukhash took another long sip of her water. Her triangular ears were pitched forward, as though she were listening for something. Finally, appearing to have come to some decision, she turned towards him with an expression that Cadoc could only interpret as guilty. "Don't be mad at me," she said sullenly.

"Why would I be mad at you?" Cadoc asked, feeling confused and concerned at the same time. She had barely said ten words in the past day, and had been sick for the most part. Cadoc was  _worried_  for her, not angry.

Squirming, Rukhash's eyes darted about nervously. Cadoc suddenly wondered if she had played some prank on Hedon that he was not aware of. She was acting so edgy! "Rukhash," Cadoc said soberly. "Why do you think that I am cross with you?"

"You ain't cross  _yet_ ," she mumbled, suddenly dreading telling him this. She opened and closed her mouth twice, but no words seemed to be forthcoming. Finally, knowing that he would start to press her, Rukhash took a deep breath and closed her eyes, not daring enough to see his reaction. "I'm knocked up."

The silence that followed was deafening. Cicadas were buzzing and somewhere a whippoorwill hooted, but aside from the sounds of the wood, there was nothing. Rukhash cracked her eye open to find Cadoc staring at her with a shocked expression that matched her own feeling when she realized it herself.

Cadoc's slack jawed stare was making her more anxious, and she was about to say something more when he suddenly leaned forward and pulled her into his arms. Rukhash braced herself against his chest as he embraced her, expecting all manner of reaction, but certainly not  _this_. "I guess you  _ain't_  cross then?" she ventured.

Cupping her face, Cadoc kissed her soundly on the lips. "You are sure?" he asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.

"Pretty sure," she admitted. "I mean, there ain't no one around to check on it fer me, but I ain't been this sick since I were knocked up with my daughter. I just didn't notice earlier 'cause the hints was too subtle."

"How long?" Cadoc released her face and swung his arm over her shoulder posessively.

"I dunno," Rukhash shrugged. "A few weeks?"

A thoughtful look crossed his features. "I thought you said you could not conceive if you were not in heat."

Rukhash shrugged helplessly. "I guess I were wrong." Cadoc looked, for lack of a better word, smug. She was honestly surprised that he was taking this so well. "I thought you'd be pissed, what with wantin' ta wait an' all."

"Men make plans and Eru laughs," Cadoc replied. "It is, perhaps, not the best timing, but is still happy news."

"Who's Eru?"

Cadoc shook his head with a smile. "It is an old saying," he said before hugging her again and planting a kiss on her dark crown. He drew back with a look of concern. "Should we alter our course and find somewhere to settle so you can have the baby? I remember Ingrid had a difficult time with Holgar. I do not want to put you in any danger."

"I'd be in more danger later'n I'd be now," she told him, glad that he was past his preening and thinking of the very real dangers around them. "Feelin' sick ain't the same as bein' laid up. I'm a tough girl. I can handle a hard pace if it meant a safer spot in the end. It'd be better fer us if we could reach Nûrn, or come close. Unless you know some place here where they won't string me up."

Sighing, Cadoc pulled her against his side, feeling more protective of her than he ever remembered being. The lands south of Gondor were further away than the border of Mordor. "There are only a few weeks left until we reach the Duath Mountains. No ranging parties cross those peaks. We would be safest there, I think."

"Then 'at's where we'll go," Rukhash said with a nod, "and we can figure things out from there." She felt better knowing they had a plan. Rukhash could handle a queasy stomach on the march if it meant a safe place for her to give birth.

Hedon took that moment to come crashing through the underbrush. The sky was just fading from dark blue to pitch black, and Cadoc was relieved he was back so soon. Raising a pair of large rabbits up, he nodded to the couple in front of him. "I found a warren nearby," he said. "It looks as though we can forego the stale bread for one night."

Though dinner was a silent affair, Hedon was troubled to find Rukhash and Cadoc sharing subtle, soft eyed, conspiratorial looks while they ate. Deciding he had no desire to know what brought  _that_ on, Hedon offered to take first watch. Situating himself in the crux of a pair of oak branches a few feet off of the ground, he leaned against the larger branch and laid his bow across his lap. Hedon was eager to be on his way; to clear Cadoc of the ridiculous charges brought against him and to be out of the presence of the two of them. Hedon hadn't spent much time with Cadoc and Rukhash as a pair before, and now he found the way Cadoc coddled the orcess to be a little troubling.

Sometimes, Hedon wondered how long it would take for her to turn on Cadoc. The older man had denied it up and down when Hedon brought it up once, after her performance in prison, swearing that Rukhash would never harm him, but Hedon was not so confident. He still thought Cadoc was being remarkably naive. Rukhash might not be an enemy now, but Hedon wondered if it was just a matter of time before she  _was_.

Not that Rukhash was without better qualities. She could be very congenial when she wanted, and her history was the sort of tragedy that was easy to pity, but Hedon could not shake his unease around her. He had honestly thought he had worked past the discomfort he felt in her presence, but Rukhash was too alien. She reminded him often of the orcesses he had seen as a boy; gentle as lambs to their young, but vicious as wargs to anyone else.

The appearance of her dark figure beneath his tree startled Hedon from his reverie. For a moment, he thought she had wandered from camp to relieve herself. Before he could call out to warn her that he was just above, her head swiveled up and a small, pleased smile lit her face.

"There you are," she said. "Thought I smelled ya this way."

In a blink, she scrambled up the tree and perched herself near him, balancing her weight on a cluster of branches over his head. "Where is Cadoc?" Hedon asked anxiously, unnerved by the glow of her unnatural eyes as they looked down on him.

"Sleepin'," she said lightly. "I thought you an' me could clear the air, yeah? Put aside our differences an' all that. Whaddya say?"

"There are too many differences to put aside," Hedon told her dismissively before turning his attention back towards the forest.

Rukhash nudged him in the ribs with her naked, clawed toes. Hedon cringed at her strange, rodent-like feet. "Quit bein' such a prick all the time," she scolded him. "Fer someone who saved my arse, you sure are actin' like a cunt ta me lately."

"I owed you that," Hedon grumbled.

Rukhash snuffed. "So now we're even an' you can go back ta hatin' me then?"

"I do not hate you," Hedon corrected her. "It is my trust you do not have."

Rukhash shifted, shaking the branch Hedon was leaning against as she repositioned herself so she could tuck her legs underneath herself. She leaned over him, her face hovering a few feet from his own. "Why not?" she asked him, her tone honestly confused. "What'd I ever do ta make ya think I ain't trustworthy? I ne'er hurt no one the whole time I were in yer village. I even made peace with that murderin' prick! I set things as right as I could afore I left. That ain't worth shit is it? I'm still a worthless orc bitch ta you after all that?"

Hedon opened his mouth to speak, but could think of nothing to say. When she put it that way, it made his fears seem completely unfounded. "I never said you were an orc – I never called you such a thing."

"What do you think I'm gonna  _do_  ta him?" Rukhash said, sounding hurt. "I told ya he means more ta me than anythin'. He's my  _shaûk_. There ain't no one else but him."

"I am not worried about what you will do to him now," Hedon said quietly. "I am worried about  _later_ , when you tire of him."

An angry scowl marred her face, and Rukhash swung herself around so she crouched on the branch directly in front of Hedon. "That ain't how it fuckin' works," she growled. "You don't understand what I mean when I call him  _shaûk_ , do ya? When I say that he's it fer me? I thought you spent time around my folk. If you spent any lick of time around orcs you'd know we don't throw 'at word around like it don't mean nothin'." Hedon honestly had not heard that term before she uttered it, but Rukhash pressed on before he could admit it. "Cadoc calls me his wife," Rukhash said, "and I don't mind it 'cause I know what it means ta him, I know it's close ta how  _shaûk_ is supposed ta be. A  _shaûk_  is someone you trust more'n anyone. They've got yer loyalty before anyone else; you chief, your kin, your folks – a shaûk comes before all of 'em. Even yer own kids."

"Some orcs go their whole lives without a  _shaûk_ , 'cause it's too much to promise ta someone yer not sure of. I been lucky enough ta find two folks in my life 'at fit the bill." Rukhash's expression became soft. "I can't hurt Cadoc any more than I could hurt myself. We'll probably fight an' argue, it'd be queer if we didn't, but I made him a promise, and if my folk understand anythin', it's loyalty."

Hedon released a long breath through his nose, unsure of how to respond. "It is hard for me to see my friend leave everything he has worked for to be with you," he said finally. "But I appreciate your clarification of the situation. I will admit, it does bring me some comfort."

"I promise I'll take care of 'im," Rukhash said with a small smile.

Shifting, Hedon turned to face the surrounding forest. "You had better," he told her, "or you will have  _me_  to answer to."

"Yeah, yeah," Rukhash snickered with a rue smile, her tone teasing. "Mean old ox. Think I'm startin' ta like you, ya know. You grow on folks after a while. Sorta like a wart."

"The feeling is mutual," Hedon said gruffly.

With a smile, the orcess hopped down from her perch and headed back towards the soft glow of camp. Hedon returned his attention to the surrounding night, feeling somehow lighter.

* * *

**Last Edited: June 2014**


	35. Mirror Image

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Mirror Image**

_**AN:** _ _I've been waiting to get to this chapter for a while..._

* * *

In the soft grey light of early morning, Rukhash found herself standing in a copse of tall trees as Cadoc and Hedon prepared to leave her for the day. A few hours walk away was a small village well off the beaten path and inhabited by Mûlrim, former, mannish slaves of Barad dûr that had settled in Gondor in the years since the War. Now free men and women, these folk mostly kept to themselves, tilling land that had long remained empty when the Shadow cast its long hand across Ithilien.

"They are good people," Cadoc told her as a way of some assurance.

"I ne'er had any issue with 'em," Rukhash said with a shrug. Though she had never, exactly, worked alongside the mannish slaves when she was in Lugbúrz, she had come across them often enough. They manned the upper kitchens, or the mines and smithies, or served in the mannish barracks as launderers and comfort women. They seemed like a generally miserable folk to her, but then, so were the orcish  _snaga_. Rukhash had been miserable herself when she served in the Tower, so she was hardly poised to judge those people for hating it as well.

"We will be back by the afternoon," Cadoc said as he dropped his pack near hers and rifled through it to produce a small pouch of coins. They had decided it would be best to leave Rukhash a safe distance away. Even with her face hidden, her presence would invite speculation. A hood and scarf were disguise enough on a dark path in passing, but to have her among a group of people, who were not accustomed to strangers in the first place, was an invitation to disaster.

Rukhash agreed to this plan whole heartedly. She had just about enough of standing in the middle of a crowd of Men, and she could honestly care less to know what the slaves of Barad dûr had made of themselves. In fact, she was fairly sure that it might infuriate her; that these people were given a chance at real freedom while her own were run down to the last. Never mind the differences between orcs and men. She could not, honestly, believe that  _every single_  orc had decided to be troublesome after the War ended. She had known quite a few blokes in her time that would have been just as happy to leave men to their own business.

Of course, they would have gutted a bloke for looking at them sideways, but that wasn't the point.

"You will be all right here on your own?" Cadoc asked for what seemed like the hundredth time as he pulled a small over-the-shoulder bag on.

"Aye, aye sir!" Rukhash said with a joking salute. "I'll hold down the fort. Make sure no one swipes our shit."

"If there is any trouble," Hedon offered, "I suggest you run, as opposed to try and meet it on your own." Hedon had been fairly decent to her since their little talk, even if the news of her pregnancy – offered by Cadoc – had shocked him into silence for the better part of dinner the night before. At least he had stopped giving her hairy eyeballs. Rukhash hated that shit.

"Yea, yea," she waved them off. "Gar, get goin' already so we can git outta here. 'Sides, I gotta piss. So unless you plan on watchin'..."

With an indignant snort, Hedon started off towards the village. After kissing her quickly, while their companion's back was turned, Cadoc followed suit. Rukhash watched them disappear into the forest with a small feeling of anxiety. It annoyed her. She had been on her own before. She shouldn't be nervous about being alone now.

* * *

They reached the village by noon, a longer trek than Cadoc had anticipated, but leaving Rukhash too close would make her vulnerable to passers by or trappers that would be about in the forested areas around the village. In the past hour, Cadoc had passed a few wooden traps and full snares most likely laid out the day before. He didn't like her being so far away, especially in her condition, but Rukhash would be safest where no one would come across her by accident.

The last time Cadoc had stopped in this settlement, it had been little more than a trading post and a few small huts built by former migrant workers. Now it had grown to include over a dozen larger houses, barns and what looked like a proper general store. There was a high, wood wall around the main section of the settlement, with several horses and goats grazing in a nearby field and more homes peppering the rolling hills to the North. All in all it was a picturesque scene, and a testament to the hard work of these people, who managed to grow a peaceful life out of their past misery.

While Hedon went to bargain on the price of a horse, Cadoc went to purchase some food that would last them for the next few weeks. Spring was in full now, the uncharacteristic heat causing the landscape to transform from bleak to lush in the course of their journey thus far. There would be enough game and gather-able food to stretch their supplies for nearly a month or more, but Cadoc wanted to take no chances. It was very likely that he and Rukhash would not have the luxury of hunting or gathering on their journey.

An older woman with wide hips and a pleasant, round face met him at the door of the store, her copper skin offset by an ivory scarf covering her head. She was dressed simply, in a loose fitting grey blouse and shawl and long, pleated skirt. She smiled warmly at him, though her dark eyes seemed wary. Cadoc had expected this. The Mûlrim people saw very few guests in their villages, especially Gondor men. Cadoc and Hedon had received quite a few odd looks already. Yet, they were not met with any more hostility than an older man that asked them what their business was, and he was content with their answer. They were here to purchase supplies and a horse, nothing more.

"Good afternoon ma'am," Cadoc greeted her with a nod. "I was wondering what you have in the way of food that will travel well." With a smile towards the small bundle of coins he held, the woman ushered him inside, chattering amiably about her inventory.

The inside of the shop was row after row of shelves, some stocked to the fullest while other stores, specifically the grains harvested later in the year, were running low. She must have done occasional business with outside traders, because Cadoc recognized some bolts of colorful cloth that were produced mainly in Western Gondor and bowls with looping designs similar to those found in Minas Tirith. These foreign items made up a small measure of the inventory, though, stacked neatly in a far corner, while the homespun and simpler pots and pans and containers were in the front; local items that were undoubtedly cheaper and in greater demand in this rural area than the dusty finery in the back.

The cured and dried meat available was mostly goat, some horse – which put Cadoc ill at ease, though he realized not all peoples had the scruples his own did when it came to horses – and some wild game and fish. Cadoc politely refused the horse meat, but stocked up on the goat and, remembering it was a favorite of Rukhash's, venison. He rounded this out with dried beans and oats. The nuts were far too expensive, since they were ridiculously out of season, so Cadoc made due with barley instead.

All the while the older woman helping him – Gunjan, she supplied when he kept calling her ma'am – piled up his items on the counter and made neat calculations on a small slip of paper to tally his order. She was assisted by a younger woman named Sima, who managed to keep dropping one thing as she pulled another from the shelves.

Cadoc tried twice to help her pick up items rolling across the floor, but she shoed him away. "I have it!" she insisted stubbornly as she juggled several bags of different grains in her arms.

Shrugging helplessly, Cadoc looked to Gunjan, who seemed used to Sima's fumbling. The older woman clucked her tongue and shook her head as she totaled Cadoc's order, but made no move to scold the girl.

"I must say, this village is much larger than the last time I was here," Cadoc said conversationally as he counted out his money. This stop would use up most of what was left of his purse, but better to spend it now than have it rot away in his pockets while he and Rukhash starved. Once they reached Nûrn, Cadoc doubted Gondor coin would do him much good.

"Oh," Gunjan said in her soft, round accent, "have you been here before? I do not remember your face."

Half a decade or more had passed since Cadoc was last in this settlement. He was undoubtedly grayer, and his beard had grown out considerably, obscuring his features. No, he doubted Gunjan would remember him. He had not come here to do business, but to lead a group of rangers in securing the area from a large band of orcish and mannish raiders that had been razing villages just to the South.

Cadoc did not mention any of this, though. He was dressed as a simple traveler to help hide his identity. No sense in telling this woman his life history. "It was a long while ago," was all he said.

Gunjan nodded as she tucked Cadoc's money away and went to help Sima, who was doing a better job of tying up her own fingers than the strings on his packages. The older woman said something to Sima in a strange tongue that had the slightest resemblance to orcish, but the words were completely foreign. Though the proprietor did not sound angry, or even annoyed, Sima sighed, her shoulders slumping, and backed away so Gunjan could tie up the packages with quick, deft fingers.

It was looking at their backs as they packed his items that Cadoc noticed a few, thin scars peeking out from beneath the low neckline of their blouses and creeping up onto their shoulders and neck. They were not as winding and deep as the scars Rukhash had, but they were lash marks nonetheless. Frowning slightly, Cadoc could not imagine these gentle women under a lash. Though cautious of him because he was a stranger, they were still politely friendly. Sima could not have been much older than her twenties, which meant she was just a child when she served in Barad dûr.

_She was probably similar to Rukhash's age when she was there_ , he thought sullenly. Cadoc did not often think of what-might-have-been. Such musings were, generally, not in his nature, but he hated to imagine what the World would have been like if the Free Peoples had not defeated the Dark Lord.

Between Sima's fumbling and Cadoc's indecision when it came to certain items, it was a little over an hour before Cadoc had finished his business in Gunjan's shop and went looking for his comrade. He found Hedon walking from the stables, leading the oldest horse Cadoc had ever seen. Though its gait was even and its eyes looked clear, the horse's coat was dulled with age, its snout a mess of white whiskers. Cadoc hoped that Hedon did not spend his full purse on the creature.

"My friend," Cadoc said as he scratched Hedon's new mount on the muzzle, "I think you have been swindled."

"She came at a minimal price," Hedon scoffed. "I need only reach Emyn Arnen. I have no intention of replacing the mount that I have, I merely need transportation in his absence. Time does not exactly permit me to make the journey home to fetch him."

Cadoc shook his head ruefully. Hedon could certainly pinch a coin. "Will this poor old beast  _make it_  to Emyn Arnen?"

Hedon harumphed and slapped the horse's flanks. The mare nickered indignantly. "She has a strong back," Hedon said assuredly. "I'm sure she will make the trip with no trouble."

With a shrug, Cadoc shouldered his pack and headed towards the outskirts of the village with Hedon and his new nag picking up the rear. As they headed past a group of boys playing some sort of game that involved kicking a ball, Cadoc wondered how Rukhash had fared on her own.

* * *

After spending a better part of the morning feeling sick, Rukhash's stomach had finally settled enough for her to eat a few bites of the tack that Cadoc left her. It wasn't much of a meal, but Cadoc and Hedon would be returning with the makings of a decent supper. That was something Rukhash was looking forward to since, for the past few days, her nausea seemed to be settling in the afternoon, leaving her ravenous by evening.

After the downpour two days ago, the air had become lighter and cooler; more fitting for the time of year, and Rukhash was feeling more comfortable than she had in a while. The little copse of trees made for a dark little spot beneath that didn't hurt her eyes, and the grass here was plush and soft beneath her. She had just squared up a cup of water and was settling in for a light nap when a commotion overhead startled her upright. A pair of squirrels were chasing each other around and around the branches of the tall oak she was laying against, going about some sort of playful, squirrelly business, and they didn't have the decency to keep it down for someone that might want to catch a bit of shut eye.

"Feckin' arseholes," she grumbled and launched a nearby stone at the pair of rodents. She hit the largest and the little bastard screeched indignantly before dropping down to a branch below and scurrying into another tree.

"Serves ya right," she said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the oak trunk, 'keepin' folks up wit' yer yammerin'."

Closing her eyes, Rukhash was just about to drop off again when something small and hard hit her in the middle of the skull. "Ow!" she yelped, jumping to her feet and glaring at the smaller squirrel who had just dropped a hard, unripe acorn on her. He seemed to laugh, chittering, as he rubbed his tiny fingers over his nose.

"That's it," she growled, pulling out her curved knife and kicking off her boots, "now yer fuckin' breakfast."

Before she could leap onto the trunk, a high pitched whistling sounded from behind, and out of pure instinct, Rukhash ducked to the side, neatly landing on her rear. She blinked, unbelieving, at the light shaft sticking out of the trunk where she was once standing, it's bright white fletch still vibrating from the impact of being buried halfway deep. Turning to where the arrow had flown from, she came face to face with two, dark haired men, standing no more than twenty feet away.

There were a few things that made this impossible. For one, she hadn't heard  _anything_  – not a rustle, not a creak – that would have announced their approach. For two, they were standing downwind, yet the smell coming off of them was not much different from the trees that surrounded her. Knowing they were there, she could sense a subtle difference, but the pair of them may as well have been two pines for the way they smelled.

The one who fired at her, a tall looking fellow with fine, feminine features and dark hair to match his comrade identically, slowly lowered his bow, which was carved with so many looping, knotty patterns, Rukhash wondered why it hadn't snapped. The other, who was looking at her as though she was the foulest thing he had ever laid his eyes on, drew a narrow sword from his hip, the floral metalwork on the base arching gracefully into a wicked sharp blade.

Rukhash scrambled to her feet, looking from one man to the other. They weren't dressed like rangers or deputies, so that was a plus, but then, that one bloke  _had_  just fired an arrow at her, and that was definitely not terribly friendly.

Glancing up, Rukhash realized the squirrel was gone. In fact, it seemed the whole forest had gone silent. "Oi," she said unsteadily, gesturing to where the squirrel had been, "he weren't a friend a yers, were 'e?"

This did not seem to strike either of the men as amusing. Swallowing anxiously, Rukhash took a step back, unnerved by their unwavering, sharp eyes steadily wafting hate at her. A soft breath of wind blew, shifting the hair of the sword wielder, and Rukhash caught a glimpse of his ears, which ended in delicate points.

" _Fuck_ ," she hissed, turned, and ran as fast as her legs would take her. Rukhash had never seen a  _golug_  in all her life, but now that two of them where following hotly behind, she wished she never had.

As her legs churned Rukhash realized that she could barely hear her pursuers. A few times she was half tempted to turn around and see if she had lost them, but the stray snap of a twig or hard landing alerted her that they were, indeed, still very close behind. Even as she climbed a particularly high ridge, at one point nearly launching herself vertically, she still couldn't gain a lead on them. As she reached the top of the ridge, Rukhash made ready for a dead run, but skidded awkwardly to a stop, sliding to her side, when she realized the apex she had strained for housed only a long line of trees. The other side was a drop, several dozen feet, straight down.

Palming her knife, Rukhash turned and made to strike at the sword wielding elf as he reached the top. He was impossibly fast, twisting his blade down and up and knocking Rukhash's knife out of her hand and over the cliff; into the branches of a large, old oak. She ducked a swipe at her head and, lacking anywhere else to go, scurried straight up a pine tree growing at an awkward angle over the cliff. An arrow lodged itself in a thorny branch next to her head. Rukhash looked down to see the pair of elf warriors climbing after her as if scaling a narrow trunk that dangled over a sheer drop was something they did on a daily basis.

Weaponless and out of tree, Rukhash looked from the elves to the branches of the old oak, the topmost swaying gently just a few meters away. Making a desperate choice, the orcess ducked out from under a pine branch shielding her, managed – through pure luck – not to be skewered by another arrow, and leaped.

There was a breathless moment as she flew through the air, the boughs of the oak rushing towards her, that Rukhash decided this was probably one of her stupider ideas. The oak leaves smacked her in the face with enough force to cut and Rukhash made a desperate grab for a branch. It bowed dangerously, slowing her fall before it snapped in the middle. She fell several more feet, was knocked in the back of the head by another branch and collided chest first against a thick bough. Though the air rushed out of her lungs, she desperately wrapped her long arms around the branch, her lower half swinging like a pendulum, and her fall came to a stop.

Coughing raggedly, Rukhash looked up through the canopy above to see the pale faces of the elves staring down at her, their grim mouths drawn into thin, angry lines. " _Ha_!" Rukhash crowed triumphantly, sure that they would never follow. She had barely made that jump. There was no way they would attempt it.

Her face fell as, in one smooth leap, the elves jumped from the pine and seemed to float down towards the oak, each landing on his own branch with barely a rustle of leaves. Rukhash gaped, refusing to believe what she just witnessed. "That ain't  _fair_!" she cried petulantly.

Then, they were hopping down towards her, their weapons at the ready, and Rukhash regained her composure, maneuvering through the boughs towards the ground below. She had always been a good climber, but the elves were faster, and before she could make a final jump for the ground, the bow of the one elf warrior came around to thwack her in the back of the skull, making her vision swarm with angry black spots. She screamed as she fell, but managed to right herself so she landed on all fours, like a terrified cat. The impact made her teeth rattle in her skull.

She stood and immediately collapsed to the ground, her right ankle refusing to hold her weight. The elves landed a few feet away from her. The elf with the bow drew another arrow while the sword wielder made with a fancy twirling move and slashed at the air next to him, as if anticipating the final stroke.

Scrambling backwards, Rukhash pinned herself against the tree. Her ankle throbbed and Rukhash wished she hadn't kicked off her boots earlier as she watched it swell. She screamed when the bowman let loose another arrow. It thudded next to her as she ducked to the side, tucking her head into her arms. She scanned the area frantically for somewhere she could limp to or some weapon she could use, but she was cornered by a pair of enormous roots on either side, and there was nowhere for her to go.

Terrified and cornered, she tucked her wounded ankle under her and managed to rise to her knees, hissing and spitting at the pair as intimidatingly as she could. They seemed unmoved by her display. The sword wielder approached her in three, long strides, his sword raised.

"Please," she screeched, shielding her face with her arms, " _mercy_. Please,  _please_ don't kill me _._ I'm carryin' a little one what ain't done nothin'.  _Please!_ " It was not her proudest moment, begging for mercy, but all she could think of was the little sprog tucked away in her belly, and any pride she might have felt, any irreverence in the face of death, slipped away with her fear for her unborn baby.

She had shut her eyes, anticipating the blow, but no blow came. Cracking open one, wary eye, she discovered that there was no one standing over her. Sitting up, she found the place where the elves had stood completely empty, without even a depression in the soft grass to tell of their being there. Looking above her – her father had always warned her to look up – she found only the soft swaying of the oak branches, the sun dappling through peacefully. Birds were twittering, when Rukhash was sure anything but her pursuers had ceased making noise.

Kneeling up, Rukhash scowled angrily. What the fuck kind of shit  _golug_  game was _this_? Were they gone? Were they  _fucking_  with her?

A part of her wanted to scream into the woods around her, call those bastards all kinds of nasty names. Who were they to go around chasing people off of cliffs? Her spine was not that steady at the moment, though. She had a feeling that she had been let off the hook, and it was probably not a good idea to piss them off if they were in earshot.

Deciding to take this as a reprieve, Rukhash's attention went first to her ankle. It was badly swollen, but not broken. With shaking hands, she was able to use a few strips from her tunic to bind it enough that she could limp on it. Having found a branch to support her, she managed to make it to the base of the cliff. She would never be able to climb it, but maybe she could find a spot where it was not so high or where it met the ground that she was on.

Swallowing down her anxiousness – though the elves had shown no sign they were near in the past twenty minutes, she felt as though she was being watched – Rukhash began to limp along the base of the cliff. A bright flash caught her eye from up ahead, and she hurried forward. It was her curved knife, and Rukhash was relieved to find it. Her father had made it for her when she was just a little blighter, and it was one of the few things she still had from her childhood. Tucking it into her belt, Rukhash looked down the way and nearly laughed out loud. Perhaps a few hundred yards away, the cliff face dipped and a large, stripped tree trunk formed a bridge to the top. At least her miserable luck was looking up.

With a weary sigh, she limped on. It was going to be a long trek back to camp, and damn it all, she had to pee.

* * *

**Translations**

**golug:**  elf


	36. Hour of the Wolf

**Splint**

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Hour of the Wolf**

_**AN:** _ _Hurr... I'm gonna get yelled at for this one, I know it. Sorry guys, but it's a long break before the next chapter. Hopefully, sometime mid-September._

* * *

When they returned, late afternoon, to an empty camp, Cadoc's heart jumped into his throat. When he spotted the white arrow buried in one of the oak trunks, very near to Rukhash's height, a cold, sick feeling crept over him. He knew no folk, aside from elves, that fashioned white arrows.

He found no trace of blood. Somehow, that knowledge allowed him to push down the overwhelming anxiety that threatened to overtake him and grant him the calm he needed to examine their camp more closely.

There was a depression where she had obviously stretched out near their packs and her boots were haphazardly kicked off directly next to it. The shaft of one boot rustled of its own accord and a small squirrel popped its head out of the top. Frowning, Cadoc kicked at it and the little rodent squeaked and scurried away and up a tree.

He could hear Hedon lead his lumbering, ancient horse into the clearing. The younger ranger cleared his throat and Cadoc turned to see his friend regarding the white arrow sticking out of the tree. "That does not bode well," Hedon said dryly. Dropping the pack of supplies on his back, Cadoc glared at his young companion before stomping past to examine the area outside the copse of trees.

"I am sure she is fine, Cadoc," Hedon reasoned to the older man's retreating back, but Cadoc was in no mood for discussion right now. There! Her trail was easy to follow. Rukhash's clawed feet left little furrows where they hit the ground, even on the denser soil. Returning to where his weapons were stashed, he quickly fastened his sword to his belt and snatched his short bow from where it was packed with the rest of his belongings, strung it and tucked the several short arrows he kept with him through a loop in his belt. An injury to his eye had weakened the muscles and made his aim over long distances not quite true, which was why he rarely used his bow, but he had learned over the years to compensate for this. His shot was decent, if not, necessarily, always accurate.

"There are two of them," Hedon stated as Cadoc stalked back towards Rukhash's trail.

This was not news. Cadoc had seen the pair of lighter, subtle depressions following after Rukhash's tracks. In some spots they were barely a shifting of grass, but they were tracks made by elves all the same. "I am aware."

He broke into a light trot, not wanting to miss a turn in the direction of his quarry. Cadoc heard Hedon crashing carelessly through the underbrush after him, leading the nag in his wake. "Cadoc," he called, "you cannot slay two elves! You will have far worse than the King's judgement to fear if you do something so fool hearty."

Stopping suddenly, Cadoc whirled on Hedon, enraged. "I will protect her with my  _life_ ," he growled. "Nothing you say will stop from doing that. If you are so worried about what might become of it, then go back to camp and wait for me there."

Blinking, Hedon watched Cadoc turn and break into a run. The younger ranger paused for a moment before gathering his nerve and following after. Cadoc was a lousy shot with a bow, and pitting himself against two elven warriors – especially the type that had no qualms with hunting down orcs – would be tantamount to suicide.

* * *

She was exhausted.

Blinking against the oppressive light, Rukhash glared up at the hundred or so feet she still had to go. The fallen tree may have provided an easier climb to the summit than the sheer face of the cliff, but she was barely halfway up and the dried, dead bark had already scratched up her knees and thighs and palms. Meanwhile, her stomach churned queasily in the garish noonday sun. Rukhash scowled to herself, forcing the bile back down her throat. It was a fine time Cadoc chose to go galavanting off with his friend! She hoped he was having a good time shopping. And damn it all, if this tree didn't have the prickliest bark she'd ever encountered in all her life.

"Fucking  _golug_ ," she grumbled under her breath as she inched up a little more. If she ever saw that pair again, she would be sure to give them a piece of her mind. Rukhash could practically feel her mood souring by the second, her earlier fear quickly being replaced with ire, and she wasn't sure who she was more furious with at the moment; Cadoc for leaving her alone or those twat elves that decided to shit all over her morning.

Gritting her teeth, she managed to drag herself up another foot, her progress painfully slow. Her hand, sweaty and raw, slid on a stripped patch and she nearly pitched over the side. In that frantic moment, her walking stick slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the ground forty feet below her to land in a cluster of dense thistle. Rukhash stared down after it with a profound feeling of hopelessness. With a frustrated growl, she rested her head against the rough bark beneath her.

Her stomach rumbled, but whether it was with hunger or sickness, she couldn't tell. Her bladder felt like a weight in her abdomen, and she hoped that she didn't piss herself during this infuriating climb. As if she didn't feel shitty enough, the injury to her ankle continued to throb. If not for that sprain, and the possible concussion she had, she could have bounded up this blasted tree in a few minutes. Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt as though she might cry, but all the tears in the world wouldn't help her reach the summit. Rukhash bared her teeth and growled instead, angry at her situation, angry at that pair of nancy, cunt elves, angry at Cadoc for not being here and angry at her own weakness. She had dragged herself out of worse scrapes than this!

Snuffing and swallowing to wet her dry throat, Rukhash rallied all of the stubborn nerve and barely suppressed rage she had in her and struggled to pull herself forward.

* * *

 

As Cadoc followed Rukhash's tracks, he was bolstered somewhat by the speed at which she was running. Rukhash was fast, nearly as fast as a horse, and Cadoc held out hope that she may have outrun her pursuers. Her trail led up a steep slope to a small ridge. Glancing up, Cadoc noticed a narrow line of pine trees along the top, silhouetted against the blushing sky. The lack of any noise made him anxious. How far had she run? Was she  _still_  running or had she found somewhere to hide? All of her weapons were left back at their campsite, so Cadoc doubted she would try to fight.  _Unless she was cornered_ , he thought anxiously as he started to climb the ridge.  _Please be hiding somewhere, Rukhash._

He had barely managed to scale a dozen feet before Hedon called for his attention. Turning, he caught site of Hedon atop his horse. The younger man was pointing to the side, and Cadoc's line of site followed his direction. The incline sloped down along the ridge and back up again to where it met the top a hundred yards away. Situated under a wide, short tree at the top of the hill was a small, dark figure nestled among its roots.

Hopping from the ridge, Cadoc started towards the tree, sprinting at first, but as he neared, and realized it was, indeed, Rukhash that was slumped at the base, his pace slowed with dread. She was covered in red scrapes along her legs, her right ankle roughly bandaged and Cadoc assumed the worst. She did not stir, and he could not tell whether or not she was breathing.

Kneeling at her side, Cadoc brushed his hand along her sweaty cheek. He was relieved to see her flinch. "Rukhash," he called softly.

Her eyes fluttered open and her amber gaze fixed on him wearily. "Water," she rasped and Cadoc quickly pulled the small canister from his side, glad that he didn't think to drink much from it during his trek to and from the village. He passed it to her as he helped her sit up, and Rukhash snatched it from his hand, pulling out the cork and drinking from it greedily. Cadoc was silent as he watched her gulp down the water as if she had nothing to drink for days. After a hurried breath, she continued until she had drained the whole thing. Finally, with a long sigh, she turned towards him, an exhausted look on her face, and promptly smacked him up the side of the head.

Cadoc blinked, a little stunned. That hurt! "What was  _that_  for?" he exclaimed, affronted.

A permanent scowl settled on her face. "Where the fuck  _were_  you?" she growled. "I hope you 'ad fun traipsin' around 'at village while I were bein' chased offa cliffs! I were nearly skewered, you know."

A guilty look passed over Cadoc's face. "What happened?"

"I were just mindin' my own business," Rukhash hissed, angry now as she recalled it, "and then these two  _golug_ twats jus' up an attacked me! So, I took the ox's advice." Here she nodded at Hedon, who had dismounted and was standing behind Cadoc, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I fuckin' bolted, but they tore after me like I flipped off their mum or somethin'. I fuckin' made this stupid jump off that cliff into a tree and they just... Well, fuck Cadoc they jus' floated right after me! Like a pair a fuckin' I-don't know-what!"

Her eyes were welling up with the memory and Cadoc clasped her hands in his as she struggled to keep her breath steady. "They were gonna kill me," she whimpered, "and I says 'please,  _please...'"_ her hand pulled free from his and came to rest on the flat surface of her belly.  _"_ Then they just up and took off! They just left me there with my ankle all swelled up an' no way ta get back." She dissolved into weeping then, pressing her face into Cadoc's chest. He patted her back lightly, urging her to calm down.

"You are fortunate they showed you mercy," Hedon blurted out.

Rukhash's head shot up as she chucked the empty canister of water at Hedon, her whole demeanor suddenly furious. "Oh,  _fuck you_! Fuck you and fuck  _them!_  What the fuck was I doin' that I deserved  _that_  yea? Mindin' my own fuckin business is what!" Growling, Rukhash struggled to stand, holding onto the tree to help her up. Cadoc recognized when Rukhash was ready to wind herself up into a fury and he quickly rose and scooped her into his arms. She made a little yelping noise as her arms automatically went around his neck.

Cadoc walked past his bewildered friend. He heard Hedon scoff quietly as he passed, but Hedon was his last concern at the moment. Right now, Cadoc wanted to get Rukhash back to camp so he could have a look at her ankle. At least she seemed to be calming down, her head falling to rest against his shoulder.

"I'm still mad at you, ya know," she informed him.

"That's fine," Cadoc said calmly. "I am relieved that you aren't dead. When I found our camp empty I feared the worst."

"Think I'm lucky, do ya?" Rukhash said sourly.

"From the sound of it, your day has been decidedly  _un_ lucky," Cadoc told her," but I  _am_  glad that those elves chose not to kill you, even as I am extremely unhappy that they troubled you in the first place."

"Cadoc," Rukhash said quietly, "I keep gettin' this eerie feelin' that they ain't gone."

Cadoc's steady stride faltered at that. The sloping landscape near the ridge was fairly open, covered mostly in coarse grass and sharp rocks, with an occasional tree sprouting up from the landscape. The area where they camped was a little more dense, but not by much. Those elves must have been very stealthy to have snuck up on Rukhash. Her senses were keener than most. "Are you still having that feeling now?"

"I ain't sure," she admitted uncomfortably. "I ain't sure if I'm just spooked or if they're really hangin' around."

Cadoc had known quite a few elves over his tenure, some he had been on more friendly terms with than others. They were a people that were very attune to the world around them. Much of the knowledge inherent in his Order regarding the forest and tracking was said to have come from elves originally. Cadoc knew, if any would be able to hide in an open plain, it would be an elf.

Hedon led his horse alongside them. Cadoc glanced askew at his friend while Rukhash preferred to staunchly ignore him, tucking her head against Cadoc's neck. "It would be quicker if you put her on the mare," Hedon said quietly, a contrite look on his face.

"Rukhash despises horses, and she has been through enough today," Cadoc countered. He felt her hug him a little tighter. "Ride ahead of us, my friend, and collect our things. We should try to put some distance between ourselves and this place."

Hedon's brow rose. "It is nearly dark."

"Then we will travel in the dark," Cadoc said in a stern tone. "The moon will be out in full tonight. I would like to try and reach that river we passed on our way back. Rukhash's ankle is sprained, at least, and the cold water will help to bring down the swelling."

Without a word or backward glance, Hedon was on his horse and riding into the distance in short order. Cadoc bit the inside of his cheek. The younger ranger dwarfed his mare, and the pair of them were a comical site. Turning his attention to Rukhash's swollen ankle, Cadoc frowned.

"So, how bad do you think your ankle is?" he asked her.

"Pretty bad," she admitted, not bothering to lift her head from his shoulder. "Ain't broken, though, I'm sure a that, but It'll be a few days 'fore I can walk decent on it. Water's a smart idea though. If it's cold enough It'll help a lot."

"I may not be a healer of your skill," Cadoc said with a smile, "but I have had to treat much worse than a sprained ankle out in the wilderness. You are not the only one who knows your way around medicines."

Rukhash snorted. "Water ain't a medicine, Cadoc."

"Close enough," Cadoc said with a shrug and Rukhash giggled. He was relieved to hear her laugh.

* * *

It was past midnight by the time they reached the river, and they were all exhausted. Cadoc left Hedon to light a fire and start dinner while he carried Rukhash down the short slope to the river bank. It was rocky here, and the wide, flat granite that cropped up along the shore hid them from camp and allowed for some privacy while he helped her strip her mangled tunic.

"Aw now," she teased when she saw he picked out a change of clothes to replace her torn tunic, made shorter because she used much of it to bind her ankle, "how's Hedon gonna catch a peek of my rear?" She smiled rakishly as she undid the ties of the leather strap that bound her chest.

Cadoc shook his head and laughed. "You are horrible," he said without conviction.

He had brought the flask of soap and a rag down with them along with some fresh wrappings for her ankle and bandages and salve for the scrapes on her knees. While Rukhash washed up, Cadoc gently undid the makeshift binding on her ankle. She was in bad shape. Her ankle was puffed up to nearly twice the size and lumpy where it was not completely covered. Grabbing her by the knees, he swiveled her so her feet could dangle in the cool water.

Rukhash giggled and sighed with relief as the water numbed the throbbing ache. "I could get used ta ya waitin' on me," she said with a rue smile as she finished wiping her face and stomach, relieved to scrape some of the day's grime off.

Cadoc pressed his lips to her damp forehead. "You did far more for me when you knew me less," he said as he settled behind her and pulled her hair behind her back.

"What're you doin'?" she asked as he began to separate it into little clusters.

"I thought I would plait it for you," he informed her. It had grown wiry over the past few days. He thought she might appreciate getting it out of her eyes. "Unless you prefer to wash it."

"Water's too cold ta go dunkin' my head in it," Rukhash commented off handedly. The trees here were low and dense, and in many places willows dipped into the water. The moon was bright, bathing everything in a cool, blue light. Finished with her brief bath, she sat silently while he worked, too tired to tease him about playing with her hair. Besides, Cadoc's gentle touch was making her sleepy and relaxed. She yawned widely as she blinked listlessly at the far shore feeling cool and comfortable and ready for food and bed. The horrors of that day seemed miles away.

Tying off the end, Cadoc laid the braid over Rukhash's naked shoulder. She smiled at it as she fingered the neat, tight plait, amused. "Lookit you," she teased. "Fancy, fancy."

Cadoc chuckled. "Such is the fate of an older brother. Edda was always asking me to braid her hair when she was little. Sometimes I think she undid them just to have me braid it again."

She smiled over her shoulder at him, her bright eyes glinting, before grabbing her clean tunic and pulling it over her head. She left her belt and chest binding off, preferring not to sleep with them on. Taking her feet out of the water, Rukhash prodded lightly at her ankle. The swelling had abated considerably. She allowed Cadoc to bind it, while she salved the scrapes on her knees and bandages them. The cuts on her thighs and hands were shallow and scabbed over, so she left those alone. They didn't itch or burn, so she wasn't as concerned with them as she was the deeper wounds.

"I'll bring these up and come back for you," Cadoc offered as he gathered up her filthy tunic and belt and the unused bandages and salve. She watched him bound up the rocky slope with a small, affectionate smile before turning towards the river again. A subtle movement on the far shore captured her attention, and Rukhash caught sight of a pale face staring at her through the trees.

For a frantic, heart racing moment, her voice caught in her throat. Then, the face vanished and she screamed.

Cadoc was at her side in seconds and Hedon wasn't far behind. Before they could ask, Rukhash pointed towards where the face had been. "I saw someone!" she croaked in a shaking voice. "Across the shore, by that knotty tree."

Scrutinizing the area of the shore she was looking at, Cadoc could not see a 'knotty tree'. Beneath the canopy of leaves was only blackness, but Rukhash's eyes were far better than his in the darkness.

"Stay with her," Cadoc ordered Hedon, who was squinting at the far shore with a confused expression.

Hedon nodded and Cadoc made his way across the river, traveling along an area of raised stone a little upstream that formed a small waterfall. The water here was no deeper than the height of his boots, and the ranger was able to cross it easily. Pulling his sword from its sheath, Cadoc ducked under the low overhang of foliage and into the wood. Cadoc made his way deeper into the forest and slightly downriver, to where he believed Rukhash had pointed.

He moved slowly, pausing often to see if he could catch any movement among the shadowy shapes surrounding him. As his eyes began to adjust to the gloom, Cadoc could make out the dim form of a short, leafless tree up ahead, its trunk covered in knotty, dark spots. Shaking his head, Cadoc quietly marveled at Rukhash's sharp eyesight. The tree was twenty yards in from the shore and shaded by the larger trees around it. No man would have been able to spot it at night and so far away.

There were no tracks along the ground, either subtle depressions or stray twigs, that would give away someone's passage, but that did not surprise Cadoc. When they were chasing Rukhash, those elves were probably not as concerned with hiding their trail as they were now that they were spying on her.

Coming to stand near the tree, Cadoc glanced around, and his eyes fell on a low, bright slab of granite a little downhill, closer to the river. Laid across its wide, flat surface was a white arrow. As he approached the rock, he looked through the part in the low hanging boughs. He had a clear view of the far shore. Hedon was standing stiffly next to Rukhash, still trying to see under the canopy. He looked somewhat comical, squinting so hard his eyes almost appeared shut. Rukhash caught sight of him immediately, an unsure look on her face as she raised her hand in acknowledgement. Cadoc returned the gesture and she smiled a little, but looked no less anxious.

Cadoc scowled at the arrow as it lay harmlessly on the rock next to him. Whoever put it here did not leave it by accident, and Cadoc doubted he had frightened two elven warriors away. Cadoc had a great deal of confidence in his own abilities, but he was not a man of foolish bravado. More so, the far shore was nearly thirty feet away. Close enough for an easy shot, but far enough that Cadoc would have had no time to cross the river before a second arrow was notched. A skilled bowman could have killed both Rukhash and himself without breaking a sweat.

What angered him most of all was that it seemed to be a message. Cadoc plucked the arrow gingerly from its spot, examining the long, white shaft before turning and glaring into the dark forest that surrounded him.

" _Am man theled?"_  he called out, holding the arrow before him. " _Should I thank you,"_ he continued in Sindarin,  _"for sparing my wife? Or should I be thankful that you have injured her as she carries my child?"_  Cadoc paused for a moment, listening, but no response came. _"We have done nothing! We wish only to be left in peace."_ There was still no answer, and Cadoc wondered if they had gone already. Deciding that he had said his piece, Cadoc dropped the arrow on the rock and turned to head back across the river.

Hedon had a puzzled look on his face as Cadoc returned. "What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing," Cadoc said as he gathered Rukhash in his arms. "I believe they have gone."

Nodding, Hedon followed Cadoc up the slope to camp. None of them slept that night, and they were on the march by sun up.

* * *

Though he had planned to leave the pair of them now that he had a mount, Rukhash's injury demanded that Hedon stay. She could manage walking for very short distances, but her injury would only be exasperated if she continued to put weight on her ankle. Hedon was surprised when she agreed to sit on the hose along with their packs.

"Cadoc'll kill 'imself carryin' me around all day," she had said, a weary look on her face. Hedon was impressed she was so willing to put aside her distaste for horses, but then, he realized, it shouldn't have been. On numerous occasions, she had declared her loyalty and care for Cadoc. She did not want to see him injured any more than Hedon did. He found himself feeling guilty for his harsh words towards her, and about her. The orcess was fairly subdued for the first few days after her injury, tired and in pain, and Hedon was surprised to find that he shared – to a much lesser extent – Cadoc's outrage that she had been harried by those elves, whoever they were.

They traveled the South Road towards the Harad Way for nearly five days. It was a wise move, on Cadoc's part. Tracking them in the wilderness, with no other trail but their own to follow, would be a simple task, but the roads were traveled by merchants and traders, and their passage would be obscured by the numerous, other tracks. To avoid the heavier traffic, they traveled at night, stopping to rest off the road during daylight hours. The moon was starting to wane, but the light it cast was more than adequate for night travel on a cleared road.

For the most part, Hedon's discourse with Rukhash was limited to necessary conversation. He did not want an attempt at apology to take the dark turn it had a few weeks before, and he wanted to part ways with Cadoc without an argument.

As they neared the juncture near the Harad Way, where Cadoc planned to turn south and make for a pass through the Duath Mountains, Rukhash's injury was beginning to abate. She could put more weight on it, and had even walked the better part of a night without assistance before they came to a stop for the day. Hedon finally felt comfortable leaving the pair of them alone, and told Cadoc that he would believing the next night to make for Emyn Arnen.

"We may not have seen any elves in the past week, but Dellon is still after you," he told Cadoc as the older ranger fixed their meal. "If an audience with Lord Faramir is going to do any good, I should have it soon."

Cadoc nodded. "I would thank you again for all of your help, my friend."

"Of course," Hedon said, shaking his head. "I could do nothing less." He paused for a moment, trying to think of a good way to put his words. Rukhash had taken to the surrounding trees to relieve herself, and Hedon could not think of a better time to try and apologize, to his friend at least, for his temperament regarding the female Cadoc considered his wife. "I am sorry," Hedon said finally, "that she and I do not get along."

Cadoc looked up from stirring the bubbling pot in front of him, an unreadable expression on his face. He fixed Hedon with a small smile. "I appreciate that you try," Cadoc said before turning back towards breakfast, an odd concoction of oats and ham and wild leeks that was surprisingly savory. Rukhash wouldn't touch any sort of grain unless it was mixed in with some kind of meat. Hedon thought it was a bit of a waste, using up so much meat, but he supposed the orcess's needs were more on Cadoc's thoughts than tight rations.

Rukhash took that moment to return to camp. She had a slight limp, but otherwise managed herself well enough. She ignored Hedon as she passed him and took a seat near Cadoc. "Smells good," she said, sniffing lightly at the air. "When's it ready? I'm starved."

"You have perfect timing," Cadoc smiled at her as he ladled some of the oats and meat into a bowl and passed it to her. Hedon took his own seat across from Cadoc, and the three of them ate breakfast quietly. Rukhash shoveled her food into her mouth with usual gusto and asked for seconds before either of the men had more than a few bites.

Rising from his seat, Cadoc collected his sword and headed off to situate himself between camp and the road to take first watch. Hedon was left alone with Rukhash. The younger ranger regarded her quietly as she dug in for thirds. Hedon shook his head reprovingly – her manners were appalling – and finished his own meal.

"I ne'er realized what a shit cook I was til Cadoc started cookin' fer me," Rukhash said appreciatively between mouthfuls.

Glancing around Hedon realized that Cadoc was gone and she was speaking to  _him_. Was she striking up a conversation?

Rukhash raised a brow at him as she chewed thoughtfully. "It's good, right?" she said, raising her bowl slightly. Hedon wondered what she was getting at. She hadn't spoken a word to him in a week.

Unsure of what to say, Hedon placed his breakfast to the side. "It is," he said. He decided less was more, in this situation.

She regarded him for a long minute as she finished her third bowl, and Hedon wondered what was going through her head. She seemed intently thoughtful. Finally, she set aside her own, empty bowl and brushed her hands together, cocking her head to the side. "You think you'd like me better if I were a Woman?" she asked.

Hedon started at that. The orcess didn't seem particularly cross with him, or in an argumentative mood. In fact, Rukhash seemed somewhat interested in his answer, sitting quietly while she waited for him to respond. Hedon considered her statement. If she  _were_  a woman, she would easily be the crassest woman he had ever met. "I don't think so," he said at last. "I actually find you rather boorish."

Rukhash laughed out loud at that, her eyes twinkling, and Hedon wondered if boorishness was some manner of orcish virtue. "That's fine," she giggled. "You'd be one a the most borin' orc lads I ever met, if you were an orc lad. Don't think I'd like you any more'n I do neither, if we were the same type. So, at least we can agree on that."

Huffing quietly, Hedon nodded.

"But we both care about  _him_ ," Rukhash added in a soft tone, nodding in the direction Cadoc had headed. "Don't we?"

"I suppose there are two things we can agree on, then," Hedon admitted with a small smile.

The orcess fingered the hem of her tunic thoughtfully. "What do ya think it's gonna do, you goin' ta talk to 'is boss?"

"At the very least, I am hoping Lord Faramir will lift the bounty on the two of you," Hedon said. "You still have a few more weeks before you will reach the mountain pass Cadoc is aiming for. I am sure you would prefer not to have to look over your shoulder every few seconds for the rest of your journey."

Rukhash nodded quietly at that. "That'd be nice," she said thoughtfully. "You think he'd lift that other charge; the one what calls Cadoc a traitor? He seemed real upset at that."

"I am not sure," Hedon admitted. "I believe it is a matter for the King to decide, but Lord Faramir is held in high regard. If he is sympathetic to Cadoc's situation, I'd hope that he would speak on his behalf."

Biting her lip, Rukhash shifted to stretch out her legs. Her gaze had wandered off to the side, and she seemed to be thinking hard on something. With a frown, Hedon noticed her hand move to her abdomen. "How are you feeling?" the ranger asked. She seemed, at least to Hedon, to not be quite as ill anymore.

"Eh?" Rukhash started. She lifted her ankle and rotated her foot inside her boot. "It's a bit stiff, but my ankle should be fine," she said, misunderstanding his meaning. "I bounced back from worse sprains in less time, an' I been off my feet all week. Felt real good last night, walkin' on it."

Clearing his throat, Hedon nodded obligingly. "What about your... other condition?"

She regarded his uncomfortable expression with a knowing grin. "You mean the sproglet? It seems all right, tough lil' blighter." she patted her belly with a small smile. "Might start feelin 'im bounce around soon. Felt 'at real early with my last one." Rukhash's attention shifted to the ranger across from her. "Least I ain't loosin' my lunch no more," she added with a smirk.

"Well," Hedon said awkwardly, "that is good, I suppose."

Looking up, Rukhash regarded the bright sky with a thoughtful frown. "Better catch some shut eye 'fore it gets too late," she commented off handedly. "I always wake up when it starts gettin' hot." Tossing her bowl near Cadoc's empty one, she turned over the cover for her sleeping roll and tucked herself in.

"Sleep well," Hedon told her, glad she seemed eager to drop the conversation.

"Yea yea," she yawned, not bothering to lift her head from where it was pillowed on her arms. "You too. G'night, or g'day... or  _nar mat kordh-ishi_. Whichever you prefer."

Her breathing evened out in minutes and Hedon decided she had the right idea. After checking on the old mare tied up nearby, he laid down on his own pallet, staring wearily at the canopy above, and willed sleep to come.

* * *

Hedon left the pair of them the next day, heading north into Emyn Arnen while Rukhash and Cadoc headed over the Poros and into South Gondor. They traveled the Harad Way south for a few days, keeping their nighttime schedule, until the moon no longer afforded them any light. Cadoc wanted to turn them east anyhow, since a Ranger station was even further south, and he needed to angle their course towards the pass through the mountains that would take them into Mordor. So, their path angled east, taking them through the dense, less populated forests that stretched along the mountains, from Ithilien to the Harnen River.

They took to travel in the daylight, the dense canopy allowing Rukhash a rest from the oppressive sun. To some extent, Rukhash missed traveling at night, though it was easier for her to sleep in the cool of evening. Three days into their trek into the forests of South Gondor, with little more to cause them trouble than an angry skunk – Cadoc had burned that set of clothes – Rukhash realized that they were nearly in the clear. It would be only a little over a week before they reached the mountains, and then they would be safe.

More than that, her belly was just beginning to pop out and Rukhash could swear that she had felt the first, tentative flutters of the baby. It was exciting, even as she struggled to curb her enthusiasm. They had a ways to go yet, but more and more, it would seem as though they were going to make it. Looking to Cadoc where he sat next to her, on to of a large chunk of rock that set him above her – his attention fixed on the surrounding forest as they took a rest for the night – she felt herself smile and her sight started to blur with emotion.

Turning towards his wife's sniffing, Cadoc realized she was crying. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned. Their conversation had been light for a while now, and Cadoc couldn't understand why she would be crying when, just this afternoon, she had been thrilled because she thought she felt the baby kick.

"I'm jus' happy," she said tearfully, wiping her face. "I can' help the waterworks. It just comes an' goes whenever it wants now a days."

Smiling gently at her, Cadoc shifted off of his perch and came to sit next to her, drawing her against him. "I am happy as well," he told her softly before pressing his lips against her crown. "Is it kicking now?" Cadoc asked, curious. He had thought she was moving along much more quickly than Ingrid had, and Rukhash had confirmed this when he had mentioned it by informing him that she would come to term in twenty-four weeks, a significantly shorter time than a woman would.

Concentrating, Rukhash wrinkled her nose. "Nar," she said at last. "Ain't movin' around right now. It'll be a few more weeks 'fore I start feeling' it regular, and a little longer'n that 'fore you'll be able ta feel it."

Placing his hand above Rukhash's, where it rested on the swell of her belly, Cadoc brought his mouth to hers. As Cadoc moved to lay her back and covered her body with his own, he realized there were still many obstacles for them to face, but at this moment all he could think on was the feel of her skin against his and the soft sounds she made in the darkness.

* * *

Rukhash woke with a start. Frowning, she peered into the darkness, unsure what exactly it was that had woken her. Cadoc was no longer by her side, but he had left a while ago to take first watch, telling her that he intended to check the perimeter. Stilling, she pitched her ears forward, listening intently as she scented the air. Annoyed that she could hear and smell nothing, she gingerly tossed the covers off of her and pulled her tunic on. The fire had burned out at some point, and Rukhash didn't like that all. Why wasn't Cadoc back from his rounds yet?

Rolling to her feet, Rukhash palmed her knife and followed his faint scent out of camp. A quiet, angry grunting from a thicket up ahead caught her ear, and Rukhash hurried forward to investigate. In the middle of the shadowy clearing was a dark shape hovering menacingly over her  _shaûk_. Cadoc was lying on the ground, a bruised lump forming on his temple, completely still. Two, blood red eyes fixed on her, and the large, black orc that had knocked Cadoc unconscious grinned.

Rukhash swallowed down the anxious lump that formed in her throat, not wanting to think of what condition Cadoc might be in. Whimpering and quivering wouldn't do him any good right now. With a hiss, Rukhash mustered all of her haughty, Uruk hai disdain and brandished her curved knife. "Oi!" she barked. "What the fuck you think yer doin'? He's  _mine_."

"Them's big words, little rat," a voice sounded from too close behind. Before she could whirl around, a large hand gripped her bicep and spun her, catching her knife in his giant palm as she took a swing. Rukhash came face to face with a pair of amber eyes fixed in a scarred face. "Yer keepin' awful queer company now a days, little sis."

Blinking, Rukhash could barely find her voice. For all she knew, she was speaking to a ghost. "Thraangzi?"

Her elder brother grinned, toothy and white. Then there was a sharp pain in the back of her skull and Rukhash knew no more.

* * *

**Translations**

_Am man theled? (Sindarin) lit._ For what purpose? _trans._ Why? [This is pulled from a Sindarin site, as I am not well versed in the language myself, but thought a little belonged in Cadoc's response to the elves, even though I switched to "translated italics" immediately after (and, really, would you have preferred to scroll all the way down here to see what he said?).  _If you are_ _ **well versed**_ _in Sindarin_  and you find there is fault with the usage, please  **PM**  me and let me know the best way to fix it.]

 _Nar mat kordh-ishi_. (SV Black Speech) trans. Do not die in bed. [This phrase has several meanings, but in this instance it is used in the sense of "sleep tight."]


	37. Brothers and Sisters

**Splint**

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Brothers and Sisters**

* * *

_Rukhash held up the curved blade her father had given her hours before, admiring the razor edge as it glinted in fractured shafts of light that broke through the grates and passages of the dim tunnels below Orthanc. It was nearly the size of her whole arm! The young orcess smiled to herself. Let Bogdish call her scrawny now. She would show him!_

_She was so caught up in her new weapon that she didn't hear the soft footfalls that approached her from behind. "Oi, what we got here?" a growling, female voice grunted from behind._

_Jumping with fright as she whirled, Rukhash came face to knee with an impossibly large, impressively wide female Uruk. The larger orcess was not only built like a male, but armored like one as well, with a breast plate cobbled from several, ill fitted tarkish originals and spiked arm guards that were too small for her muscled forearms._

_Rukhash glared at the massive female, her ears pinning back as she bared her small, needle teeth. The bright, green eyes of the larger orcess sparkled with dark amusement as she regarded Rukhash, her wide mouth forming a fanged grin that was not meant to be friendly. "Come hand it over, runt," the orcess ordered as she extended her large palm. "A little cunt like you wouldn't know what ta do with somethin' like that."_

_"Git yer own," Rukhash hissed as she clutched the knife to her chest._

_With a grace that belied her behemoth size, the orcess plucked Rukhash from the ground before she could bolt, holding her at eye level. Rukhash swung wildly with the knife in her hands. A sour expression crossed the orcess's face as she batted the steel swishing past her face. At one point, Rukhash was sure that she must have shorn off a piece of the female's short, reddish hair._

_The female spared an annoyed grunt before her hand darted into the frenzy of Rukhash's aimless attacks. She caught the tiny orcess's wrists in her hand with little more than a shallow scratch to show for it. Rukhash struggled against her iron grip, twisting her tiny body with all of her unnatural, goblin dexterity._

_The large orcess chuffed with frustration. "Hold still, little maggot," she growled as she struggled with a wriggling, young orcess. Rukhash twisted and twisted, folding her arms over themselves and turning her body upside down so the soft flesh of the orcesses forearms, at the underside of her arm guards, were exposed. Seeing an opening, the young orcess lunged and her teeth caught fast, filling her mouth with sticky, thick blood._

_The massive orcess howled so loudly, it made Rukhash's chest rattle, but her grip loosened, and with a final, desperate roll, Rukhash was free. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she broke into a dead run towards the tunnels that led to her family's den._

_"Little_ balaak _bitch!" the female roared. Rukhash's goblin heritage was not something that most Uruk-hai noticed right off. Keeping her feet covered helped to hide her least urukish feature, so most grown uruks merely regarded her as being particularly runty, but her nimbleness was a dead giveaway. No Uruk of Isengard breeding could bend their spine near backwards._

_She didn't need to look to know that the orcess was right behind her. For as quietly as she snuck up before, she thundered after now, her enraged snarls sounded as if they were only a hair's breadth behind. The telltale sound of a weapon being unsheathed reached Rukhash's ears despite the heady thudding of her pulse. A whoosh of air above her head alerted the tiny orcess that her pursuer was too close._

_Rukhash ducked to avoid another swipe before bounding up the wall. Her shoed foot slipped and she was on the ground again, rolling away from the steel that clanged against the uneven paving stones next to her. Scrambling to her feet, Rukhash dashed forward again, yowling to alert any of her nearby kin that she was in danger, even though she realized she was probably too far from their den for anyone to hear. She silently cursed the shoes her mother forced on her. She could have climbed the high walls to the relative safety of an air shaft if her feet wouldn't keep slipping._

_"Shaddup and git back here, you_ snaga _worm!" The monstrous orcess bellowed as she charged forward._

_Lunging, the orcess swiped with her free hand and knocked Rukhash's feet out from underneath her. Pivoting midair, Rukhash managed to land on her back in time to avoid another blow from the female's short, broad blade. Rukhash jabbed in the general direction of her attacker. The giantess let out a startled yelp as the narrow blade caught the cleft in her chin. Scrambling on all fours, Rukhash made to dart out of the orcess's monstrous shadow, but she was nabbed by the hair and dragged back. As the orcess raised her weapon, a tiny Rukhash howled with fear and closed her eyes._

_A tremendous force barreled into them, and Rukhash was thrown to the side, hitting the far wall with breath stealing force. She blinked the spots away to see her older brother, Thraangzi, locked in a dangerous bear hug with the massive female. They were nearly equal in size –Thraangzi, perhaps, had an inch or two on her – and the noise they were making! The growls and snarls and curses, were enough to set Rukhash's hair on end. Finally, Thraangzi was able to gain enough leverage on the female to throw her back several feet. She rolled to a crouch and snatched her blade where it had fallen in the fight, bringing it up between them._

_"Mind yer own business, Thraangzi!" the female hissed. "What I do with some little_ snaga _whelp ain't no concern a yers."_

_Thraangzi advanced on her a step, his own, long, curved sword drawn, and she backed up a few paces. "Where's yer sis, Glokarn?" Thraangzi asked with a knowing smirk. "Gettin' a piece fer herself up in the barracks, I'd bet, and 'at's where you should be. You ain't got no kin down here." The orcess opposite of him looked as though she swallowed a bug. "This here's_ my _sis," Thraangzi continued, nodding in Rukhash's direction, "so you keep yer mitts off."_

_Glokarn spared Rukhash a withering look. The tiny orcess squeaked and scrambled behind her brother's broad calf. Grumbling angrily to herself, the massive Glokarn rose to her feet and shuffled down the tunnel._

_With a superior grin, Rukhash peeked her head out from behind her brother's leg and stuck her tongue at the female's retreating back. "Serves ya right," she mumbled under her breath._

_A firm rap on the head alerted Rukhash that Thraangzi had heard her. "Don't say stupid shit, rat," he grumbled as he snatched her up under his arm. "That girl coulda had yer head clean off. What're you doin', roamin' this far anyhow? Mum had me lookin' all over fer ya. Little imp like you's liable ta get stepped on."_

_"I was visitin' with dad," Rukhash said with a little pout that normally cooled her brother's ire. Thraangzi's angry look suggested that her usual endearments would not work in this instance. "I'm allowed!" she argued. "That beast come after_ me _fer no reason. 'Sides, she weren't nothin'' fer you, yeah? You tossed 'er off easy like!"_

_"Ya, ya," Thraangzi rumbled evenly as he headed down the long tunnel towards their den. He seemed pleased with her praise, his scowl gentling into a neutral expression. "Well, klob wants 'er sprogs together, so no more wanderin' fer you today."_

_Rukhash wrinkled her freckled nose, annoyed. She hated being stuck in the den. "What fer?"_

_"Granddad's up an' died," Thraangzi said flatly. "'Bout time, if ya asked me, but mum wants us all ta say our goodbyes 'fore he's tossed in the pit."_

_Rukhash hung loosely at Thraangzi's side, a little speechless. She had just played a game of bones with her granddad the night before. He had shown her how to palm a spare die for cheating. "Granddad's dead?" she said, finally. Rukhash had seen a lot of death in her six years. She had lost three brothers to raids – two died of infection in the den – lost a baby sister to a rat bite and an older sister in childbirth. Rukhash was no stranger to death, but it was odd to think of her grandfather as dead. He had always seemed so..._ alive _._

_At least he would have a proper funeral, as orcish funerals went. His body would go to the warg pit and the whole family would get roaring drunk and sing songs and eat an extra large meal. That would be fun, at any rate._

_Rukhash glanced up at her brother's thoughtful expression. "You sad?" she asked._

_Thraangzi shrugged easily. "Eh," he grunted. "Not really. He were a right, old git. Mum's takin' it hard, though."_

_Rukhash didn't feel particularly broken up herself, but she wasn't surprised their mum was sad. Mum was always sad when someone in the family died, crying and crying and crying until Rukhash wondered if her eyes would float away. Rukhash asked, once, why it made her so upset, after her older sister died. 'You'll understand when yer older,' was all she said. Rukhash supposed she would be sad, too, if something happened to her own dad, or her mum. She simply did not have the same attachment to her grandfather._

_Scrambling up Thraangzi's broad chest, Rukhash managed to perch herself on his shoulders. She rested her chin on the row of black hair that ran the length of his skull. Most males shaved their head like this. Thraangzi once told her that it was easier to wear a helmet without all that extra hair getting in the way._

_"We eatin' anythin' good?" she chirped, eager to change the subject._

_Rukhash felt her brother chuckle underneath her. He reached up to give her back an affectionate pat. "Krankizub's got somethin' planned to cheer mum up. He's makin' it a big secret, but it's probably man flesh from the larder. Saw 'im down there talkin' with the snaga that keeps the inventory when I were out lookin' fer ya."_

_"Haardarg," Rukhash corrected._

_"What?"_

_"'At's the lad what keeps the larder," Rukhash explained. "Name's Haardarg. He's scared shitless a dad. He forgot ta send up lunch rations once, and dad was pissed, cause he'd missed their breakfast too. Took me down there an' let me watch 'im whoop 'is arse."_

_There was a long pause from her brother at that. "Yer old dad's chief a the snaga, ain't 'e?"_

_Rukhash rapped her brother's hard skull. "Dad ain't no_ snaga _!" she protested as she rubbed her smarted knuckles._

_Grunting absently, Thraangzi patted her leg. "'Course he ain't, mite," he conceded._

* * *

She floated back towards consciousness through a thick fog. As the haze in her head cleared and she opened her eyes, Rukhash struggled to remember what had happened. A lumpy pile of fur and leather cushioned where she was laying, and to her side a low fire cast a harsh, red glow on the stony walls surrounding her.

Where was she? How long had she been unconscious?

Fighting into a sitting position, Rukhash had to pause a moment and shut her eyes. It felt as though the contents of her skull had stuck permanently to one side. Her head was _pounding_. She touched the soft swell of a bump forming at the back of her head, and she suddenly remembered...

"Cadoc..." Rukhash's eyes scanned the empty cavern frantically. Where was her  _shaûk_? For that matter, where was her brother? Or, at least, the orc that  _looked_  like her brother.

Before Naghúrz kicked him out of their group for buggering the females, Thraangzi's old captain told her he had died on Pelennor field, along with most of his company. But then, Captain Ghrururg was not the most reliable source. He had tried to force himself on Drautran in their first week of joining up with Naghúrz's band. That alone should have made her suspicious of any information he might have imparted. Most orcish males – at least, the civil sort – knew better than to try and have their way, uninvited, with the girls in their outfit. It simply wasn't good manners, and with an alpha female like Shapag, it was tantamount to suicide. But Captain Ghrururg and his roaming hands was not her concern at the moment. Right now, Rukhash's thoughts were with Cadoc and what had been done with him.

Rolling slowly to her feet, Rukhash realized she had been propped up on the traveling gear, the fur pallet she usually shared with Cadoc placed on top of their packs and water skeins. Rifling through the haphazard pile, Rukhash was disappointed to note that their weapons were nowhere to be found. Even the tiny pen knife she used to cut bindings had been confiscated. Cursing under her breath, Rukhash glanced around to see if she could find anything to use in her defense.

She managed to palm a large, pointed stone before voices from the adjacent tunnel alerted her that her attackers were returning. She had caught two, distinct male scents in the main den she was being held in, and Rukhash quietly hoped that there were no more orcs in this cavern than that. As it was, her brother and the massive Black Uruk with him would be enough to contend with if they wanted to give her trouble.

Briefly, she entertained the thought that they had left Cadoc in the woods in favor of abducting her, but that presumption quickly evaporated when she caught wind of her  _shaûk's_ blood. He was already injured, and Rukhash prayed that her brother would favor reason over his usual disdain for  _tarks_. Cadoc was her  _shaûk_. That was a sacred bond among orcs, and Thraangzi should understand that he would be causing her a grave offense by injuring her Man. Though they were not close in age, Thraangzi had always showed a kind of difference to her. He protected her when the Isen's flood had separated them from the rest of their kin. He had seen her safely to Mordor, when the other Uruk hai traveling with them were looking at her as though she might make an appropriate snack in the absence of more palatable food. Thraangzi was her favored older brother, one of the few she had looked up to as a sprog. He would listen to her. He  _had_ to.

It was the Black Uruk that entered first. Spotting Rukhash awake, he grinned widely at her. His blackened teeth made his mouth look like a bottomless pit, his fangs indiscernible from his dark gums. Shapag had painted her teeth similarly.  _Pubûrgulu_ , the Black Uruks called it, a thick mixture painted on to avoid rot. Rukhash swallowed anxiously and clutched the rock in her hand tighter. The Black Uruks of Mordor were nothing to mess around with. As haughty as their Uruk hai cousins, they were just as mean spirited and disdainful to the  _snaga_  – or in Rukhash's case half- _snaga_  – under them, caring little for any orc that was anything less than a warrior. Though she called one her  _shaûk_  for many years, Anbagûrz was a much gentler example of his brethren. Shapag had terrorized Rukhash for months before finally warming up to her.

This Uruk was not nearly as large as Anbagûrz had been, or even as large as Shapag. He was probably a runt among his folk, or a product of mixed breeding in the Pits. Despite that, he was still a good size heavier than her, and almost a head taller; not as large as her brother, but still nothing to sniff at. His grin held as he loped towards her, his bearing similar to the familiar, stooped posture Anbagûrz and Shapag shared. Rukhash backed up anxiously, scooting across the floor. Her ears pinned against her skull as she bared her teeth in a silent snarl. The Black Uruk looked wholly amused.

"She's up!" he called cheerfully over his shoulder.

"'Bout feckin' time," Thraangzi growled as he entered. He was dragging a bound Cadoc by the scruff of his shirt, his outer vest already removed. Cadoc was soaked from head to toe, as if he had been dunked bodily into a river. He turned to face her, his face purpled and lumpy, and Rukhash was horrified to see him gagged.

She made a move towards him and the Black Uruk scooped her up, easily pinning her under his long, massive arm. "None of that, love," the Uruk chirped. Rukhash's nose wrinkled with disgust. He smelled as if he hadn't washed in over a month, his own odor made all the more rank by the fact that he was as damp as Cadoc.

Thraangzi tossed Cadoc into a corner and crouched in front of him. "Thought we'd have ta drown 'im before he came to, the bastard," he said as he patted Cadoc's cheek roughly. Cadoc recoiled from the contact and cast a desperate look in Rukhash's direction.

"Guess I overdid it a bit, eh boss?" the Black Uruk said with a sheepish grin.

"Leave 'im alone, Thraangzi!" Rukhash cried desperately, worried what other injuries Cadoc's clothes were hiding. "He ain't done nothin'!"

With a barking laugh, Thraangzi turned towards Cadoc, grabbing his jaw and shaking his head roughly. "'Ain't done nothin' she says!" he echoed sarcastically. Thraangzi squeezed hard and Cadoc cringed, his breath coming in short, pained gasps, though he made no sound. "Now then," Thraangzi sneered at him, "what sorta lies have you been tellin' her, yeah?"

Rukhash struggled against the Black Uruk holding her. "He ain't told me no  _lies_ ," she raged. "That there's my  _shaûk_ , Thraangzi. You let him be or I'll have at you!"

The Black Uruk laughed outright at that. "Listen ta her!" he guffawed as he clutched her a little tighter, nearly squishing the air from her lungs. "Better watch out, Thraangzi! She's comin' fer ya."

For his part, Thraangzi did not look nearly amused as his comrade. He fixed his sister with a dark look as he slid Cadoc's sheathed sword from his belt. "Your  _shaûk_ ," Thraangzi growled. "I  _know_  you ain't that stupid. You know what  _this_  is?" Thraangzi held Cadoc's weapon up. The gold inlay tree against the dark leather of the sheath betrayed her  _shaûk's_ profession easily. It was, without question, the sword of a Ranger.

"He don't do that shit no more," Rukhash argued, though her brother did not seem particularly inclined to listen. "Please," she begged. "Thraangzi,  _please_ , don't hurt 'im!"

"Aw, now," The Black Uruk cooed with mock pity ruffling her hair playfully, "look how nice she's askin'. Your sis got good manners."

"Shaddup Lugat," Thraangzi snapped. Leaving Cadoc propped against the wall, Thraangzi approached his sister, crouching so they were eye level. He was silent for a long moment, his good eye scrutinizing her while his mangled right eye seemed to stare at something far away. "It's been a long time sis," he said at length, "but I don't remember you bein' this soft on whiteskins as a brat. I know this  _tark_  of yers," he continued, his eye narrowing. "Me and him have some unfinished business.  _Shaûk_ or not, I ain't lettin' him off fer what he done."

Rukhash struggled with her voice. Cadoc had mentioned, on more than one occasion, that before he met her, his dealings with orcs were not pleasant. She had always known, even as she rescued him on the side of her mountain, long before she had grown attached to him, that he had been an enemy to her people. "Whatever he done... I'm sure he's sorry fer it now," Rukhash countered, hoping to appease her brother.

"Don't you worry," Thraangzi said darkly. "I plan on bein' sure of it." Rukhash realized in that moment, as she stared into her brother's stern face, that he had no intension of letting Cadoc go. Whatever Cadoc had done to piss off her brother was something Thraangzi was taking personally.

_"I will spare you the details of my dealings with orcs, and I hope you will afford me the same courtesy in your dealings with men," he continued in the same, quiet tone. "I will tell you that I felt the ruthlessness with which I routed them out was justified, no matter how much or how little they had done..."_

When Cadoc had said those words to her, she hadn't thought much on them. His hunting of faceless orcs did not concern her. Rukhash cared about as much for an orc she didn't know as she did a whiteskin she didn't know. Now, Rukhash wondered just how many orcs he had slain needlessly, and what Cadoc had done to her brother to earn his immovable ire. More than twelve years had passed since she last saw Thraangzi. Did he have a family once? Or had he become a wandering raider, like so many ex-soldiers? Had whatever Cadoc done to him been justified?

Justified or not, Cadoc was her  _shaûk_. Rukhash wouldn't sit quietly while her brother tortured and murdered him. "You lay one hand on him," Rukhash growled, her expression stony, "and I'll slit yer throat in yer sleep."

Thraangzi nodded quietly, a small, humorless smile on his face. "Well," he said evenly, "I guess we'll just have ta see about that when it's done." Rising, his attention turned to Lugat. "Take her in the back."

Rukhash began to struggle wildly, unbalancing the Uruk holding her. Lugat handled her easily, wrapping his arms around her middle and pinning her to his chest. She kicked helplessly. "In the back," he argued petulantly as he juggled the wriggling orcess in his grasp. "What's the fun in  _that?_  She should get ta watch."

Ignoring his sister's swearing and hissing, Thraangzi glared at his underling. "Take 'er in the fucking back and tie her up or I'll knock yer fuckin' head off!"

Grumbling with disappointment, Lugat obeyed. Rukhash was writhing in his grasp like a livid snake. Thraangzi watched the pair disappear into the darkness of the rear tunnel with a sense of anxiousness. He did not want to cause his sister heartache, and if it was any other  _tark_  with her, Thraangzi would have let the pair of them go without a second thought. But there was vengeance to think of here, his own  _shaûk_  and sprogs to consider, and slights that Thraangzi was not inclined to let go.

Let Rukhash argue all she wanted. The subtle scent of a sprog on her had not escaped Thraangzi's notice. If she really did consider this Ranger her  _shaûk_  – and at this point, that fact was fairly hard for Thraangzi to swallow – her anger over his death would eventually cool in favor of taking care of her offspring. He would have to watch her for a while, Rukhash had always been the tricky sort, but she would forgive him eventually. She would realize how foolish she had been to consider a  _tark_  in such an affectionate light and put it behind her.

Thraangzi was not sure if he was trying to convince himself that he was doing what was best for her or if he was trying to justify personal vengeance over the feelings of his sister. When he turned again towards the Ranger in his possession, he felt the same, blood curdling rage that overtook him when he spotted the Man in the forest not far from his cave. The same man that had taken his eye and his life from him almost eight years ago. No, this was something Thraangzi was not prepared to let go.

Stooping before of the man, he pulled the gag off of his mouth. The Ranger spat and swallowed roughly. His expression was resolute and knowing, and Thraangzi realized that this man would not try and plead for his life as Rukhash had tried to do for him. Thraangzi put the thought of his sister's grief out of his mind, smiling with dark anticipation.

"You remember me, don't you,  _tark_?" Thraangzi said, his voice deceptively calm.

The Ranger exhaled slowly through his nose, his eyes full of grim memory. "Yes," he replied hoarsely. "I remember you."

* * *

**Translations**

_krankizub:_ father. [Remember! Thraangzi's father was the Uruk hai Kragolnauk and Rukhash's father is the goblin Gijakzi. They are half-siblings]

_snaga_ : slave; an orc of smaller breeding

_Pubûrgulu:_  shadow mouth; the blackening of teeth employed by Uruks of the Ash Mountains [head canon]

 


	38. Tooth and Nail

**Splint**

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Tooth and Nail**

_**AN:** _ _So much italics in this one! Sorry, eyeballs..._

* * *

_Pat, pat, pat. A small, cool palm was touching his face._

_Pat, pat, pat. Another little hand on his belly._

_Grunting, Thraangzi blinked awake to twin sets of amber eyes. Seeing their gentle nudging had worked, his young sons grinned at him, their sharp little smiles gapped in spots where their baby teeth had been lost._

_"Whadda you two want," he yawned, picking up his head from where it was pillowed on his arm. Behind him, his shaûk growled and rolled over. Zgurzna wasn't ready for company just yet._

_"Breffast," Maudur rumbled while his brother, Maufrûm, pointed to his open mouth and made a number of inarticulate uhn, uhn, uhn noises._

_"Eh? Hungry?" The twins nodded emphatically. "Where's yer mum then?"_

_"Sees still got 'at wisskin bint wit' 'er," Maufrûm grumbled as he pinched his nose. "It's stinky in dere. Mum tol' us ta bug off."_

_"Gar," Zgurzna huffed from his place beside Thraangzi. "I can think a better things ta do wit my dinner 'en waste it on fuckin'."_

_The orclings giggled and crawled over their father to perch on his shaûk. "Mornin' uncle Zna-zna," they chorused._

_"The fuck I tell you 'bout callin' me that!" Zgurzna snapped and favored them with a low, dangerous rumble._

_Thraangzi snatched the pair off of him, setting them on his belly. There was no one Thraangzi trusted at his back more than Zgurzna. They had fought together since they were lads, and it was Zgurzna that had dragged him, bloody and half conscious, off of Pelennor Field, but Zgurzna had a short fuse when it came to brats waking him up in the wee hours before morning._

_"Oi, sprogs," Thraangzi yawned as he scratched their shaved heads lightly, hoping to settle them down, "give yer poor dad a minute and I'll rustle somethin' up fer ya." He shut his eyes for what seemed like a moment, but ended up falling asleep again, because when he woke the twins were between him and Zgurzna. Maudur was using his arm as a pillow while Maufrûm lazed on his uncle's belly._

_Zgurzna fixed his shaûk a half grin. "They ain't so bad when they quit yappin'," he rumbled sarcastically._

_"You like 'em," Thraangzi replied with a quiet chuckle. Zgurzna chuffed and closed his eyes, feigning sleep._

_In all actuality, he was pleasantly surprised Zgurzna had warmed up to his sons as much as he did. Once, Thraangzi had even caught the lankier Uruk wrestling with them while he had been out hunting. Though he was never sure if Zgurzna was humoring his choice to breed with Ilzkaal or if he really liked the brats, Thraangzi appreciated the effort. They were shaûk, after all, and if Zgurzna really couldn't stand the mites, Thraangzi would have told them to bug off. He was secretly pleased they had managed to endear themselves to Zgurzna, despite the grim-faced Uruk's reluctance._

_Thraangzi always liked kids, himself. Between his parents, he certainly had enough younger brothers and sisters running around Orthanc. Thraangzi had entertained, briefly, asking Ilzkaal to call one of the boys Rukhash after one of his favorite siblings. It was a good, strong sounding name, but from what he recalled, it was a female's name among goblin folk._

_Besides, it was bad luck to name a sprog after someone living, and Thraangzi liked to think that his sister was still alive somewhere, giving some poor bloke an earful for pissing her off. For such a scrawny thing, she sure had a mouth on her. There were times that he truly missed having her around. How old would she be now? Nearly seventeen, he guessed, and grown, though how much grown was debatable. She had always been so small. Seeing her dragged into the breeding pits of Lugbúrz while he was sent to the barracks had been hard, especially after loosing so much of their kin to the flood; but then, they hadn't had much of a choice in the matter at the time..._

_Frowning, Thraangzi put those thoughts out of his mind. There was no sense in dwelling in the what was or maybes or might-have-beens. Gazing across the cave to the wide mouth, Thraangzi sighed. The sky was lightening, casting harsh, white light across the sea of sleeping bodies on the cavern floor. Sprogs were practically living sun dials. Considering he hadn't yet made good on his promise to feed them, Thraangzi decided to see what he could come up with before they woke up. Moving Maudur next to his brother, Thraangzi stretched and pulled on his breeches._

_Navigating the maze of half sleeping Uruk hai was always a challenge after a big, celebratory night. Sleeping pairs had simply dropped where they were, half tangled in complicated positions or cuddling in corners. As celebrations went, last night had been brief, since everyone was so exhausted. Thraangzi was still sore from the long march, the constant doubling back and wading through streams and hiding their tracks, but Chief Puzûr was the overly cautious sort, and it didn't hurt to be cautious with so many enemies about. They would probably move the whole clan in the next few days, if the chief's grumbling was anything to go by. Furtun's whelp was old enough to travel, and it would be safer for them to winter in the mountains. That pattern had served them well since the War ended, and with new tark settlements popping up like daisies every year, heading to less occupied territory for a stint was better for all of them._

_Stepping gingerly over Horgash, who was hugging a jug of draught like it was a long, lost lover, Thraangzi managed to come across part of the meat they dragged back with them, a severed goat leg. It was half chewed and rank, and he decided that would probably not be the best breakfast for the kids. A quiet whimpering alerted Thraangzi that Ilzkaal hadn't killed her tark yet. Leave it to her to let the thing languish for days, but then, that wasn't any of his business. Ilzkaal always did have a taste for red-heads, and had more than earned her keep during the last raid. She could do what she wanted with her share of the spoils._

_Speaking of spoils... Thraangzi's attention settled on the little tark girl that was, technically, his. He had forgotten all about her in the excitement of the night before, but she seemed like just the thing he needed now. Thraangzi didn't have much interest in tarks, himself, unless it involved a meal, but he may as well let the boys have a go at her. They were already killing rabbits and field mice like it was their business. They should have a chance at something a little larger._

_Feeling particularly pleased with his fathering, Thraangzi made a beeline for the dark haired girl cowering in the corner. Her clothes were practically rags at this point, and her ankles and wrists were bound tight, leaving them bright red and bloody. Thraangzi was a little amazed she was still in one piece. After the mess the lads had made with some of the girls, he would have expected his tark to be a pair of thin, pale arms hanging off of someone's neck by now. Someone was being mighty thoughtful last night._

_It was a shame they had passed over so much livestock to the goblins that had joined in with them in favor of the Women they dragged back to the den. Pork would have been less trouble than the gaggle of whimpering, squirming whiteskin girls, but chief's orders were chief's orders, and most of the others were particularly interested in man flesh. Thraangzi wouldn't have minded some mutton for all their trouble, but he was usually a minority when it came to that sort of thinking._

_Besides, meat was meat and this tark would do in a pinch. Grabbing the girl by her dark, curly hair he lifted her bodily from the ground. She shrieked and struggled and he backhanded her, knocking her unconscious. Stupid bint would wake up the whole den with her jabbering._

_A flurry of movement in the corner of his eye caused Thraangzi to turn just in time to see Furulk's wide head go tumbling from his shoulders, shorn by the mirror bright blade of a sage-cloaked Ranger. With horror Thraangzi realized there was a host of them emerging like silent wraiths from the early morning fog, popping off heads left and right._

_"Tarks!" he roared as his slumbering comrades startled awake. The poor bastards in the front were lost already, but the remaining Uruks jumped to their feet in short order, shouting and roaring and grabbing for any weapon they could find nearby._

_Dropping the whiteskin girl, Thraangzi hefted a heavy axe near his feet and hurtled forward, burying his weapon into the first Man skull he came across. The bastard dropped like a stone, but one of his fellows managed to take a good swipe at Thraangzi before he could wedge the blade out. With a strangled roar he razed his claws against this second Man, throwing him to the ground._

_Maudur's screeching warcry reached his ears, and Thraangzi turned in time to see Maufrûm kicked into the middle of the battle while Maudur, who had attached himself to a man's back, was crushed as the Ranger he attacked threw himself against the cave wall. Zgurzna was already at the bastard's feet, bleeding out through a gash in his throat._

_A red rage filled Thraangzi as he watched his son fall limply to the ground, and he cut a path clear across the cave, pushing anyone –man or Uruk – out of his way in the process. Grabbing the ranger by the hair he lifted him into the air and smashed his face into the cave floor, right into the rocks surrounding one of their fires, before he could take a swing with his fancy sword. Somehow, the prick was still alive, so Thraangzi drew back his head again, intent on repeating the pounding. Quicker than lightning there was a burning log in his eye, and Thraangzi lost his grip, stumbling back._

_There was a moment, when Thraangzi opened his good eye to find the tark still on the ground in front of him, that he committed this man's face to memory. It was not a conscious thought, but as he stared at the tark, his face covered in blood from a deep gash in his brow, that Thraangzi decided that this one he would not forget. Grey eyes, dark hair, the hideous, strait nose of a tark, he wanted to remember this man's face as he killed him._

_An arrow in his arm startled him out of his trance, and then there was another in his back. Suddenly aware of the battle being raged around him, Thraangzi realized they had lost. There were a handful of his comrades still fighting, but even as he took his next breath they were falling under whiteskin blades. Grabbing Maudur where he lay next to the stone wall, Thraangzi made a run for it. He was marginally comforted by the fact that he could still feel his son's soft breath against his chest. If Maudur managed to live, that alone would make turning tail worth it._

_There were two archers outside. Thraangzi barreled into the first one, swiping at his head hard enough to make it swivel to the side with a sickening snap. The second archer barely had his sword out of his sheath by the time Thraangzi reached him. One swipe of his claws against a soft throat and the man fell. Free of obstacles, Thraangzi sprinted into the forest, heedless of anything but the soft whimpering his son was making and the steady, burning pain in his right eye. Halfway up the sloping ridge, just as he came to a clearing in the tree cover, Thraangzi became aware of heavy footfalls behind him._

_"Thraangzi!" It was Ilzkaal. Turning his head without stopping, Thraangzi realized she had her tark trophy tucked under her arm. Of all the stupid..._

_"Drop the bint, you idiot!" he roared._

_Suddenly, Ilzkaal was in the dirt, the whiteskin woman thrown clear to the side. Turning on his heel, Thraangzi caught sight of the tark he had pitched headlong into the cave floor, his grim face a red mess of blood. The bastard was threading another arrow and too far to reach in time._

_Swearing, Thraangzi continued running. There was no telling how many of those Rangers were on his tail. An arrow whistled wide to his right. Lucky. He managed to reach the far tree line, his legs churning._

_Thraangzi didn't stop running for nearly an hour. By then he had no idea where he was. The landscape had become rockier and more barren, and Thraangzi assumed he was nearing the mountains. Following his nose, he went looking for water. It was nearly nightfall before he found a stream, and by then his eye felt as though it was on fire. Laying his son on the riverbank, Thraangzi ignored his own pain, the burning in his eye and back, and concentrated on his son's head wound._

_It was bad; the worst Thraangzi had seen in a long while. A long, vertical gash opened his skull, like it had been cleaved by a dull, wide axe. Thraangzi could see the grey, bloody bits inside. At a loss, he stripped of the lower leg of his breeches and covered the gaping hole in Maudur's head before pulling out the arrow in his back and arm. Those injuries were not so bad. Once the arrows were out, the wounds would heal in their own time. He kept one eye on his boy as he splashed the other, burned one with cold water. It helped for a second before the burning started up again. Frustrated, he dunked his whole head in the icy stream; coming up for air twice before dunking his face again._

_This helped only marginally, but it was enough to clear his head. Sitting cross-legged next to his son, Thraangzi gently pulled the boy into his lap. Maudur's breathing was shallow and slow and his body felt colder than when he held him moments before. Anxious, Thraangzi rested the lad's head against his shoulder, cradling him close in an effort to get him warmer. He felt the boy's weak breath against his neck. Thraangzi was reminded, briefly, of when Maudur was a whelp. He would hold him similarly, trying to get him quiet so Ilzkaal would quit snapping at him. Feeling his throat go tight, Thraangzi swallowed roughly and continued to hold his son._

_Maudur made it until nightfall. By then, Thraangzi's legs had gone stiff and numb. He had been still for so long, his shoulders popped as he moved to lay his boy on the cool ground. He stared at the Maudur's still, sleeping face for a long while before the smell of death started settling in. By then the moon had risen and the red streak of dusk had vanished from the horizon. He should have killed that tark instead of running. If his boy was going to die anyway, he should have been avenged._

_Rising to his feet, Thraangzi walked into the night, leaving his son on the bank of the river._

* * *

How long had he dreamed of this? Of avenging his boys and Zgurzna? Years of wandering alone, and then with Lugat; years of dead whiteskin after dead whiteskin that was never enough, because they weren't  _him_. Thraangzi looked down at the bruised face of the man in his possession.

_Skai_ , but he was an ugly bastard. Just as ugly as Thraangzi remembered him. Raising the wide, narrow branch above his head, Thraangzi thrashed the switch across the Ranger's bare back again, relishing in strangled gurgle he made, the bloody spittle leaking from his mouth, the new welt blooming on his ribs. His breathing was becoming labored, and Thraangzi paused, not quite ready to kill him. A few lashes were paltry punishment. The Ranger was doing his best not to scream, and Thraangzi didn't like that at all. This  _tark_  would  _beg_  for death by the time he was done with him.

If only he had been more attentive to his grandfather's lessons. Thraangzi had been more interested in sword fighting and battle tactics than torture when he was younger. Geth's instruction would have been useful now. Thraangzi simply was not sure how to kill this  _tark_  slowly enough.

Glancing towards the fire, he felt a jolt of inspiration. He lifted out a chard log, its end a fiery cinder. The man struggled as he approached. Thraangzi grabbed his hairy jaw in his palm and tapped his thumb lightly on the triangular scar above the Ranger's eye. "I think I'll finish what I started here," he said with a dark smile. "One fer one, an' all that."

Thraangzi thrust the dull, burning end of the log into the man's eye.  _Finally_ , he screamed.

* * *

_It was smoke that drew them to the village located in the mountainous foothills of South Ithilien. Cadoc was heading a large party of Rangers that year, nearly thirty men in total, into the Wild lands near the Poros River. They had already headed off a group of Harad slavers come north for exotic merchandise. Now, it was the remnants of a raid that they came across._

_In the foggy morning of late summer, Cadoc found himself riding his mount through piles of broken, severed corpses piled along the main road of what was once the beginning of a town center. The meeting house in the center had been burned to the ground, and twenty more bodies were found among the charred remains._

_Nearly five years after the War, many men and their families braved the untamed land of South Gondor and Ithilien. Though most of the orcs in this area had been cleared over the years, more still remained, but the desire to claim this land as their own pushed many Men to ignore the fact that this area was still dangerous and wilder than the territories further north._

_Cadoc may have questioned the wisdom of building a village this far from civilization, but that did not excuse the mass murder done here. The condition of the corpses were telltale signs that this raid was perpetrated by orcs. This was confirmed by the trio of survivors they found in a root cellar half buried in charred debris. A pair of children and their grandmother recounted the events with vivid horror._

_"They took some of the younger women with them," the elderly woman told them in a shaking voice as she held her granddaughters to her chest. "They were screaming, and I didn't... there was nothing we could do."_

_Cadoc regarded her haunted, sunken eyes with pity. She was nearly the same age as his own mother. "No one would expect you to do anything. It is enough that you were able to save_ these _girls from such a fate," Cadoc told her. He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We will find this band and the women they took with them." In truth, Cadoc assumed that the captives were most likely dead already. The old woman bowed her hand in thanks, and Cadoc promised himself that these people and their daughters would be avenged._

_"Perhaps we might bargain for the women," Dellon suggested as Cadoc organized their party into searching groups._

_Cadoc blinked at him, dumbfounded, but it was Hedon who corrected him. "Are you out of your damned head?" Hedon barked as he mounted his black stallion. He motioned to the burning remnants of the village and the small group of men digging a mass grave. "Look around you! Do these look like folk that would be interested in striking up a_ bargain _?"_

_Dellon swallowed anxiously in the wake of the older man's outrage. He and Hedon had never gotten along. "I want you with Tingion," Cadoc told Dellon sternly. "Take those poor women to the station in the North and see that they are properly cared for."_

_They did not need green Rangers on this mission. The tracks left behind would suggest a group of nearly twenty orcs had been through here, and there was no knowing how many would be back at their base camp. Cadoc thought, briefly, that seeing the aftermath of an orcish raid might clear the notion of peaceful negotiations with orcs out of Dellon's mind, but that hope was dashed immediately by his naive statements. Cadoc wondered where that boy got such outrageous ideas._

_The duty of a ranger was to protect the people of Gondor and Ithilien, not to entertain philosophical thoughts of peaceful relations with the enemy. That was the work of intellectuals; men who had nothing better to do with their time than contemplate ethics and ideals. Here, in the thick of things, Cadoc needed men who could act. Tingion probably didn't require Dellon's assistance to escort and old woman and two girls, but Cadoc was in no mood to listen to the boy's fanciful notions._

_"That is what happens when you have a scholar for a father," Hedon grumbled at Dellon's retreating back as Cadoc mounted up next to him._

_"Never mind it," Cadoc sighed. "We have more important things to worry about. I want you to take Cullas, his two brothers, Belegorn, Thonor, Tathar, Pellilasdir and the Ferphen cousins east to follow that smaller group that has broken off of the main party. I will take the remaining men south to follow the larger group." Cadoc turned to the men filling in the grave. "Amathon, Círon, finish up quickly. You are with me." The pair nodded brusquely, buried the heads of their shovels in the ground and hurried to secure their horses._

_Hedon turned his steed east with ten mounted Rangers behind him. Cadoc and the men following him rode into the dense, dark forests of South Gondor._

_They had been tracking the raiding party for nearly a week, and Cadoc had lost hope that they would find any of the women taken from the village alive. These orcs were clever, Cadoc would give them that. The Rangers nearly lost their tracks twice where they doubled back through shallow streams. On the morning of the sixth day, just when Cadoc began to fear that they would never catch up with them before the trail ran cold, they came upon the raiding party's destination: a low, wide-mouthed cave situated in the side of a high cliff and surrounded on all sides by heavy tree growth. It was nearly invisible from the ridge they were on. If not for their sharp eyed scout, they might have missed it altogether, and rushed headlong into an orc den without any warning._

_"Well done, Rivalon," Cadoc praised. "Did you spy any guards?"_

_"One," the scout confirmed. "He is located in a thicket not far from the main entrance. I am sure that I was not spotted. We are fortunate the air is damp and heavy today, or I might have feared that he would have scented me. He has the look of an Uruk hai, Cadoc."_

_Cadoc nodded grimly. Uruk hai soldiers, especially in large number, were dangerous opponents. Though, in some ways, if the whole number of orcs here were Uruk hai, it might be a mixed blessing. They were larger and stronger than most orcs, barring the Black Mordor Uruks, but their way of fighting was more manlike and easier to predict. Cadoc and his Rangers would not have to worry about goblins dropping down from the ceiling of the cave, or hiding in tight corners, waiting to attack. From what he could tell of the tracks they followed thus far, the whole of the orcs were wearing toed boots. Normally, smaller orcs would not bind their feet so, allowing them to climb more easily. The more he pondered it, the more Cadoc was sure it was a group of Isengard Uruks they would be confronting today._

_"I could see no alternate exit from the cave," Rivalon continued, breaking Cadoc from his thoughts. "Though the fog did make it difficult to see inside the cavern, I counted at least five, distinct figures."_

_Frowning thoughtfully, Cadoc turned to address the men with him. "We should assume there are more inside than that," he said. "There were at least thirteen on the trek back here." Pausing Cadoc tried to decide the best course, and could think of only one abysmal prospect. There was a collective breath from the group as they waited for his orders. "We will slay the scout quietly," Cadoc confirmed, finally coming to a decision. "Unfortunately, our only option at the moment is a frontal assault. The longer we wait, the less likely we are to find those women alive. Amathon, Círon, Tonnor and Calon will hang back and provide archery support."_

_Hiding their horses in a dry gully, the Rangers snuck towards the cavern up ahead. It was Cadoc that drew the longbow that slew the scout. As the orcs fell with a dull thud into the soft undergrowth, the Rangers passed his prone form on silent feet, sifting through the misty forest like vengeful ghosts. They paused at the edge tree line, spread out at even intervals. Though the fog obscured the men furthest from him, turning them into bleary shapes, Cadoc knew his order would be passed along the line. Raising his hand, Cadoc waited, peering across the narrow clearing into the orc den. There was a subtle movement towards the back and the unmistakable shriek of a Woman. Folding his palm into a fist, Cadoc ordered the Rangers forward._

_For the Rangers of the South, silence was golden. Their style of guerilla fighting had served them well over the centuries, and they were not in the habit of running into battle screaming at the top of their lungs like a soldier might. They attacked the Uruk hai den without uttering a word._

_The Uruks lounging at the mouth of the cave were caught completely off guard. Cadoc cleaved the head off of one of them before he was able to open his eyes and a second before he could sit up straight. There were more of them inside, starling awake with groggy comprehension of what was happening, and there were_ far _more than five. The entirety of the cave floor seemed littered with dark bodies. Cadoc was able to kill three massive orcs without trouble before the whole of them were organizing themselves, rousing with guttural shouts and grabbing nearby weapons._

_The soft whistle of arrows sounded and Cadoc watched two orcs in front of him fall back, felled by archers' arrows. His eyes continued to scan for the women here, but all he could see were ghastly parts, a pale, disembodied leg or arm or part of a torso. Cadoc did not allow himself to dwell on the horror of it, and silently hoped that there were a few still hale and whole somewhere deeper in the cave._

_A tall, slender Uruk with blood red eyes brought a mace down at him. Feigning left Cadoc's sword sliced through the soft wooden handle and his swing continued around to catch the Uruk in the throat. With a gurgling roar the beast continued to charge and managed to push Cadoc back several feet before succumbing to his injury. With a loud, high pitched war cry of "zna!" a smaller body attached itself to Cadoc's back while another wrapped itself around his leg. Cadoc felt the sharp sting of tiny teeth on his shoulder and lower thigh._

_Swearing, Cadoc twisted and kicked out, sending the imp on his leg flying into the fray with a startled yelp. He lost sight of it after it was knocked out of the way by an Uruk locking swords with Rivalon. Throwing himself back against the cave wall, Cadoc managed to dislodge the other imp. It fell off of his back with a squeak and curled in on itself before going limp, a deep gash turning the side of its head bright red._

_A hard fist grabbed him from behind by the scalp, lifting him bodily from the ground. Cadoc felt his hair tear as he was turned towards an enraged, dark face; amber eyes glinting murderously. With a roar the massive Uruk plowed his face towards the ground. The world seemed to stop for a moment as the cavern floor rushed up to meet him, and Cadoc was very sure, when all was said and done, he would not have a face left._

_Fortune must have smiled on him, because he crashed into the uneven stone in such a way that most of his face was spared direct contact. His left eye bore the worst of it, a sharp ridge of gravel cutting into his brow. The Uruk had him pinned on the right side, his sword hand useless. Struggling to remain conscious, Cadoc reached towards the nearby fire with his free hand as the Uruk brought his head up for another pounding and managed to twist himself quickly enough to gouge the creature in the eye, sending bright sparks flaring in all directions._

_The beast roared and stumbled back, releasing Cadoc, and the Ranger finally had a good look at him. Much taller than a man, with a row of short spiked hair down his head, he was naked from the waist up. Cadoc stared at the orc and in those brief seconds that seemed like hours the orc stared right back, as if memorizing face. Before the Uruk could lunge at him again, and arrow lodged itself into his bicep, followed quickly by another in his shoulder blade. He reared back with a snarl and, after briefly surveying the scene around him, turned on his heel. He snatched up the prone imp as he headed out of the cave._

_Dazedly, Cadoc turned to see what the orc had seen, and realized why he ran. The den was completely overrun. The few orcs still standing were being overwhelmed. Cadoc's brief surge of triumph was dashed by the sight of another orc fleeing. This one had a woman tucked under its arm, her pale legs flailing as she tried to scream for help over the din of battle._

_Rolling to his feet, Cadoc followed. He nearly tripped over the bodies of Círon and Tonnor where they had been felled outside. He wasn't sure where Amathon and Calon had gotten off to, but right now they were not his concern. Spying the pair of Uruk as they bounded up the ridge, Cadoc grabbed a bow and quiver where it rested next to a fallen Tonnor and hurried after._

_Ignoring the burning pain of blood dripping into his eye and the dizziness that threatened unconsciousness, Cadoc managed to close the gap between himself and the Uruk hai enough to make a decent shot. The trees had cleared somewhat, and there would be nothing to obstruct his arrow._

_Drawing the bow, Cadoc aimed for the Uruk carrying the woman. His vision danced with angry, black spots, but his arrow flew true, and the orc dropped to the ground, a grey shaft sticking out of its back. The second orc paused briefly, took stock of his fallen comrade and caught sight of Cadoc as he threaded another arrow. With a sneer he turned and continued sprinting up the ridge. Cadoc's vision blurred and his shot flew wide, missing his target. Berating himself, he hurried forward to where the dead Uruk and its victim lay. The woman was still, but Cadoc could hear her hiccuping sobs from where she was curled up. The other orc had vanished into the tree line on the far side of the clearing._

_Pulling his cloak from his shoulders, Cadoc laid it over the naked woman. She was covered in blood, much of it most likely her own, judging from the gashes and bruises all over her body. She screamed when Cadoc touched her shoulder, and he withdrew his hand immediately._

_"Ma'am," he soothed. "It's all right. I will not harm you. Are you hurt?" Even as Cadoc asked it, he realized it was a foolish question. "Can you stand?" he asked, dizzier now that the adrenaline was leaving him. "I am not sure I can carry you back."_

_She finally opened her eyes, a startling green, to look at him. Her face was as bruised and bloody as the rest of her body, her wild red hair stuck to one side. She looked so similar to his wife, she could have been Ingrid's younger sister. Troubled by that realization and her fearful, dazed silence, Cadoc tried to reach her again. "Can you walk?"_

_"You are covered in blood," she said in a horrified whisper._

_Cadoc reached out to her and managed to coax her into a sitting position, tucking the cloak tighter around her shoulders. "I need you to stand," he said allowing her to lean against him as he stood, supporting her waist as he urged her to stand with him. Her legs were wobbly, but no more than his._

_"You are covered in blood," she repeated, staring at the gash on his brow._

_"I am all right," he assured her and began leading her back towards the cave. Cadoc blinked back the blood in his eye._

_In the end, Cadoc did have to carry her part way. Eventually her broken words had turned to whimpering and her legs folded underneath her. With a sigh Cadoc picked her up and trudged the rest of the way back. The several hundred yards he had run to catch up with the orcs seemed like miles on the return trip. By the time he reached the scene of the battle, it had already ended. Amathon caught sight of Cadoc returning with the woman, and rushed to meet him._

_"You are injured," Amathon said anxiously as he eyed Cadoc's bloodied features._

_"Never mind me," Cadoc argued, exhausted but less dizzy than he was earlier. "Take her to Nethron and see she is tended." He had to pry the girl from around his neck, but once she had released Cadoc, she clung to Amathon just as vehemently._

_Pulling a half bloody handkerchief from his vest, Cadoc doused it with water and tied it around his eye before seeking out Rivalon for a report. He found their scout overseeing the burning of the orc corpses near the front of the cavern. The bodies of two men were laying nearby, covered by their cloaks. The thick smoke of the pyre left a black streak across the sky._

_"How many did we loose?" Cadoc asked the scout as he came to stand next to him._

_"Four," Rivalon confirmed. "Mudrion, Círon, Mithron and Tonnor; Richon and Tiethrion were badly wounded, but most other injuries were light. Nethron has Tangarion to assist him."_

_"And the women?" Cadoc asked, dreading the answer._

_"We found two still living, though one of them kept asking us to kill her. Nethron gave her something to settle her down." Rivalon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "The others were all dead. I believe there are about seven of them."_

_Frowning, Cadoc regarded the distraught look on Rivalon's face. "You believe?"_

_Rivalon turned towards him with a grimace. "We are still sorting through the_ pieces _," he said, disgusted, and spat towards the burning pyre a few feet away. "There were bones inside as well," he added. "They were mixed in with animal bones. I told the men to separate the remains of men from the animals. I think it would be better to take them with us. Bury them somewhere away from this wretched place."_

_Cadoc nodded. "That would be for the best," he replied somberly. The pair of them stood for a long while in silence while the orc corpses crackled in front of them. The sun had risen considerably, burning off the morning fog. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. "How many orcs?"_

_"More than thirty," Rivalon replied._

_"I lost one on the ridge," Cadoc admitted._

_"Should we send out a group after it?" Rivalon sounded concerned._

_"No," Cadoc said, shaking his head. "He is long gone by now, and injured. We should see to things here and be on our way." A few, light-hearted shouts caught his attention, and Cadoc turned towards the cave. "What is that all about?"_

_"I am not sure," Rivalon shrugged._

_Intent on investigating the commotion, Cadoc led an equally confused Rivalon into the yawning mouth of the cavern. It was a moment before his good eye adjusted to the gloom inside, but once it did, he felt outraged by the scene before him. A few of the younger men were severing heads from the bodies and piling them separately. They were grinning and laughing – almost jovial – as though they were on some manner of merry holiday._

_Furious with their callous lack of reverence for the quantity of death here, Cadoc approached the group. "What are you doing?" he hissed._

_"They will fetch a good price in the northern province," a dark haired youth said as he tossed another Uruk head into the pile. He seemed confused by the animosity directed at him, and that only served to make Cadoc more enraged._

_"We are not_ bounty hunters _," Cadoc growled. "We serve under Lord Faramir's banner! Put those heads in the fire with the rest of the bodies. No one should profit over the misery we have found here. You have lost comrades today. Would you dishonor their memory by_ exploiting _their deaths?"_

_A chastised look passed across their faces. The young Rangers shuffled uncomfortably under Cadoc's glare. "Sir..." one of them mumbled._

_Rivalon whispered quietly at his back. "It is the enthusiasm of youth, Cadoc," he argued._

_"That is no excuse -"_

_"Cadoc!" someone shouted from the back of the cave._

_"Clean this up," Cadoc snapped at the youths in front of him, gesturing to the collection of heads on the ground before fixing Rivalon with a pointed look._

_Turning his attention towards the sound of his name, he headed to the back of the cavern. Calon waved him into a narrow tunnel towards the back. Sucking in a breath to squeeze through the narrow opening after his comrade, he cleared the tighter section of the tunnel and to another, much smaller cavern. Two men, Tognir and Thavron, were gathered towards the back, staring at something on the ground. There was a pile of furs and random leather coverings strewn about, but other than that, Cadoc could not see anything of great importance in here. The orcs and the remains of their victims were all located in the main cave._

_"What is it Calon?" Cadoc asked, suddenly exhausted. It seemed as though his second – or was it his third? – wind was leaving him._

_"We aren't sure what to do with it..." Calon swallowed uncomfortably as he motioned towards the pile of furs. Pushing past the men blocking his way, Cadoc discovered what had Calon so troubled. Crouching above the bundle on the ground, Cadoc shifted anxiously on his heel._

_Laying on top was an orcling. The squirming, black skinned infant was making small, barely audible mewling noises, as if it wished to vocalize its discomfort, but was afraid of someone hearing. This was not something Cadoc expected to find here. He had come across imps before, but none this young and helpless. Normally, even the smallest orc would launch themselves at an enemy, attacking with teeth and claws, and it was often difficult to tell if it was an orcling or simply a smaller adult you were fighting until the battle was over and the bodies were looked over. Nothing in his training had prepared him for this situation. Cadoc's thoughts went briefly to the imp he had kicked off of his leg earlier and the other that the fleeing orc took with him._

_"I told Calon we should toss it into the fire with the rest," Tognir huffed._

_"You want to burn an infant_ alive _?" Cadoc asked darkly as he continued to stare at the tiny Uruk. "Have we become no better than orcs ourselves?"_

_"I said the same," Calon confessed, running his gloved hand through his messy brown hair, "but I am not sure what else could be done with it. I cannot think of any orphanage willing to take in an orcling."_

_"Nor I," Cadoc admitted. The little orc chose that moment to open its eyes. It stared at Cadoc for a long while, its red, catlike eyes curious at first. For some reason, it did not seem to like what it saw and began to gurgle and growl, its face screwing up with displeasure._

_Cadoc had no idea what to do. To simply leave it here would be to invite the poor creature to die of thirst, starvation or exposure, or worse, to be preyed upon by scavengers. They could not bring the orc with them. Who would take it in? Cadoc was not willing to expose his young son to such a threat. The little Uruk seemed helpless now, but what about a year from now? Two years from now? A decade? Hedon was the only person Cadoc knew with anything close to experience with orcs on a more benign level, and from the stories he told, they became dangerous at a very young age. But was that their nature or the influence of their vicious parents? Cadoc wasn't sure, but he also wasn't sure that was a chance that anyone was willing to take upon themselves. Certainly, it was not a chance_ he  _was willing to take; not with a family back home to think about._

_The little orc hissed at him, waving its tiny clawed hand in his direction, and Cadoc finally came to the only, horrible decision he could think of. "I will take care of it," Cadoc told the men standing behind him. "Go out front and see if Rivalon requires any assistance."_

_Cadoc listened to the other Rangers shuffling out of the cavern and took a steadying breath. He felt, suddenly, very tired, but this was not an order he felt comfortable passing onto one of the men under him. If there would come some consequence of this choice, either in this life or the next, then it was only right that he was the one who would pay it. As if sensing what was coming, the orcling growled dangerously at him. "I'm sorry..." Cadoc muttered under his breath and covered the creature's little face with his gloved hand._

_Spying Rivalon as he tossed several heads into the fires, Cadoc paused briefly to address him. "If I find any man carrying heads back to Ithilien," Cadoc told him, "I will have him brought up on charges of disobedience." Nodding sharply, Rivalon spared a confused look at the bundle under Cadoc's arm, but chose to say nothing as he passed the pyres and headed into the nearby forest._

_Cadoc ordered Tangarion take the worst of their wounded and the women to the Ranger's station being built a day south of their location. The new station would not be as fully stocked as the forts further north, but the trip was much shorter, and they were far better supplied than Nethron was at the moment._

_After being sure that the remains were being seen to properly and his other orders were being carried out, Cadoc finally conceded to Amathon's insistence that his wounds be tended. Now freshly bandaged, Cadoc had taken Nethron's stern advice and was resting in the shade of a tall pine. It was past midday, and the cool morning had turned into a warm afternoon. Cadoc allowed himself to drift a moment, thinking of his son and wife waiting for him back home, his sister and her newborn son, of places in the world that were not filled with misery._

_Familiar footfalls were approaching, followed by a grunt as someone settled onto the lush grass. Cadoc did not need to open his eyes to know who had come to sit beside him. "When did you get here?"_

_"Moments ago," Hedon replied. "I am sorry I could not get here sooner. I hear it was a rough time for you."_

_Cadoc opened his good eye to gaze at the small plot of upturned soil beneath the tree across from him. It seemed unfair to toss that tiny creature in with its more vicious brethren. That orc was too small to have harmed anyone. "No rougher than usual," Cadoc lied. "How did things go for you?"_

_"We found the orcs after a day," Hedon informed him. "They had taken mostly livestock. There were no women with them."_

_"Were there children?" Cadoc asked, his voice soft._

_Hedon was quiet a moment, noticing Cadoc's distant look. "You mean orc-children?" Cadoc nodded silently. "No, there was nothing like that." Hedon paused, thoughtful, as he regarded his long time friend. "What troubles you Cadoc?"_

_Cadoc shook his head, shutting his eyes briefly. There was a time, when he was younger, that he thought age and experience would make him less affected by the horrors he had faced over the years, but it seemed every new year had a new horror in store for him. Even the War's end did not seem to stem them. "I am looking forward to better times," he said at length. "When the Shadow is finally gone forever, and our Order is no longer needed."_

_Hedon fixed Cadoc with a small, humorless smile. "And what will we do, when there is no further use for us?"_

_"I do not know," Cadoc said, staring up at the blue sky above. A pair of birds darted between the treetops, and Cadoc smiled quietly to himself. "But I am sure we will think of_ something _."_

* * *

In the darkness of the rear tunnel, Lugat looked down on his work, pleased with himself. After what seemed like an eternity of struggling with her, Thraangzi's wriggling sister was tied up tight. There was no way she could slip out of this. Bound at the ankles and wrists, Lugat also wound the rope around her middle, pinning her arms down. Her Ladyship couldn't have done a better job!

Unfortunately, the orcess's amusing writhing and cursing had dissolved into tears the moment he had her tied. Lugat sighed as she broke into another round of pitiful weeping. She was worse than a  _tark_  woman! He couldn't believe Thraangzi was talking about keeping her around. Sure, having a female on hand would be fun, but not one as watery as this. She'd been fucking whiteskins, for goodness sake. She probably caught some weird disease!

"Oi," Lugat poked her with his toe. "Cut it out, you, or I'll give ya somethin' ta cry about!"

The orcess began wailing in earnest and Lugat rolled his red eyes skyward. Thraangzi had been very clear that she wasn't to be harmed or roughed up, so Lugat was somewhat at a loss as to how he could make her stop. Her brother had nearly taken his head off after he knocked her out in the woods, and Lugat was not in the mood for a beating. This was no fun at all. Here, Thraangzi was having a right good time with the  _tark_  out there while Lugat was stuck babysitting a living waterfall. He couldn't even play with her! That, at least, would have passed the time. She had nice tits for a scrawny bint.

He would even welcome a swearing match at this point. Crouching, Lugat rapped her gently on the forehead. "I said  _stop_ ," he hissed. She kept crying, her whole face a wet, snotty mess. At this rate, the back cavern would be a lake by morning.

A hoarse scream echoed through the cave. The orcess suddenly paused her weeping and listened intently, her ears pitched forward. Another, weaker shout quickly followed. "Sounds as though they're having a good time out there, eh my girl?" Lugat nudged the orcess cheerfully, glad that her wailing had finally stopped.

Again, she started crying, and Lugat decide enough was enough. She wasn't going anywhere. He might as well see if Thraangzi wanted any help with that Ranger.

Rukhash kept up the waterworks until the Black Uruk had disappeared around a bend in the tunnel. She knew he'd get bored if she kept it up long enough. It had been a risky bet, crying in front of her jailor, but something told her Thraangzi was being sentimental. If he didn't care about her fate she would be either dead already or witnessing whatever it was Thraangzi had planned for her  _shaûk_. Calming her breath, Rukhash felt gingerly around the knot Lugat had tied at her wrists. She blinked at the darkness around her, somewhat dumbfounded. It was a slipknot. For a moment, Rukhash wasn't sure if she should be thankful Thraangzi's lackey was an idiot, or completely insulted.

* * *

**Her Ladyship:**  How some Mordor orcs refer to Ungoliant. [LOTR]


	39. Shaûk

**Splint  
** **Chapter 39: Shaûk**

* * *

He had lost consciousness for a moment. With several, furious blinks, the cavern came into view; red lit like a nightmarish vision. His eye throbbed painfully between burning and searing numbness. The left side of his face crawled with a strange tingling, and his lungs felt heavy, as if they were made from lead. Every breath felt as though he were struggling underwater.

The dark, grinning face of Rukhash's brother appeared suddenly above him, his amber eye full of malice, and Cadoc's whole body went tense with horrible anticipation. He was rolled suddenly onto his back, and Cadoc winced, sucking a gulp of air through his teeth, as the burned flesh of his shoulders made contact with the rough texture of the cavern floor and his bound wrists were ground underneath his weight. There was barely a moment for another breath before a searing pain bloomed across his chest, right above his heart and the acrid smell of burning hair and flesh filled his nose.

A choking cough escaped him, but Cadoc refused to make any more noise than that. His throat was still raw from that first scream, but the wound to his eye had been the worst of them. Now it seemed as though Thraangzi was toying with him, inflicting little pain after little pain as he worked his way down Cadoc's torso. Somehow, Cadoc doubted the Uruk intended to stop at his waist.

It was not this orc Cadoc remembered with regret, or even the imps he had fought. Cadoc and his fellow rangers had assaulted that den with just cause, and what was done in the heat of battle was done in the heat of battle. He doubted any of the orcs would have been inclined to surrender, and after what was done to those women, Cadoc equally doubted he would have accepted such an offer if it was presented.

But the memory of that small infant... Being healed by Rukhash brought the guilt of his actions back to the forefront of his mind. When he killed that little orcling, he had assumed it would become nothing but a violent, brutal adult. Knowing Rukhash, the affection she felt, the civility and kindness she was capable of, proved the baby he slew that day was not doomed to become a monster. He murdered that child, and there was fairness that he should suffer now for it. Cadoc could only hope that Thraangzi's hate would not extend to his sister or the baby she carried.

"You stay right there," Thraangzi growled as he laid the hot end of the stick against Cadoc's cheek. It was uncomfortably warm, but not hot enough to burn flesh. "I just got ta get us a new poker an' then we can get on with it."

"Please..." Cadoc croaked.

Pausing on his way towards the fire, the Uruk turned sharply in Cadoc's direction, a pleased smile on his face. "Oh, ho  _ho_ ," Thraangzi chuckled. "Beggin' already? I thought you'd go longer'n this. Ah, well, I like some good beggin'." The Uruk crouched next to him, hovering over Cadoc's prone form, and licked his teeth. "Go on, then,  _tark,_ " Thraangzi continued with a sneer. " _Beg_."

"Don't..." he could barely speak around his dry throat, "...don't...hurt Rukhash."

The Uruk's face morphed from murderous glee to a dark scowl. "She ain't the one you should be worried about," he replied, his tone flat.

"She... hasn't done anything... to you," the Ranger gasped.

With a snarl, Thraangzi backhanded Cadoc across the left side of his face and a pain shot like hot needles along the length of his body. The world winked out and back into view. Cadoc blinked frantically to clear his blurred vision.

" _You shut up about my sister!_ " Thraangzi roared. Grabbing Cadoc's jaw in his paw, the massive Uruk leaned in, his nostril flaring. He was so close, Cadoc could see his own, bloodied reflection in the thick, metal ring pierced through Thraangzi's nose. "She ain't yer concern no more."

"I'll tell ya what I'm gonna do with Rukhash," Thraangzi growled low in his throat. "I'm gonna  _eat_ that whelp a yers she's got on 'er. Then I'm gonna show 'er what a proper fuck is like."

A horrified look passed over Cadoc's face. "She is your  _sister_."

"I ain't met a girl what cared one way or another about  _that_ ," Thraangzi grinned, leering.

"And, she'll get it whether she wants it or not," he added, and was pleased when the Man's troubled look screwed up into rage and he started struggling against the bonds on his wrists and ankles, gurgling a pitiful mannish growl through the blood in his throat. He looked like a red-faced worm.

Chuckling darkly, Thraangzi bent near the fire to heat the stick up some more. Now that he had an extra weapon in his arsenal, he felt as though he could go all night. And, here, he thought he would end up killing the tark in a few hours. Thraangzi watched the end of the stick glow red and thought of all the graphic ways he could describe fucking his sister.

" _Garn_ ," Lugat's deep rumble sounded from the entrance to the rear cavern. "Looks like we're havin' fun out 'ere, yea?"

Glaring, Thraangzi rose to his full, menacing height and snorted angrily. "The  _fuck_ , Lugat? I thought I told you to go back there an' keep an eye on 'er."

"She ain't goin nowheres," the Black Uruk scoffed. "I tied 'er up tight. She's wrapped up purdier than a parcel, that one."

"You  _idiot_ ," Thraangzi advanced a step, furious. "You don't leave that bitch  _alone_. Her goblin dad taught her all sorts a sneaky shit. Bogdish used ta tie 'er up when they was kids just ta see what she could wriggle outta, an' she wriggled outta everythin'!"

"Who's Bogdish?"

"Never mind it!" He was nearly ready to blow. "Now get back there an' watch 'er. This is  _my_  fuckin' business here, so sod off!"

"Oi!" Lugat barked. "Maybe I will sod off, 'en, huh? You can deal with 'at cunt yerself!"

Thraangzi said nothing to that, but if a look could murder someone, Lugat would have been dead.

"'At is..." Lugat stammered anxiously, scratching his neck, "...well, hey now, Thraangzi, all she's doing back there is cryin' 'er eyes out."

Thraangzi's murderous look kept looking at him, and Lugat backed into the rear tunnel a pace.

"I were just bored," he muttered in a small voice, the defiance cowed out of him.

"You want  _me_  ta make yer life less borin'?"

"No, sir," Lugat grumbled. Thrusting his pointed finger in Lugat's direction, and the direction of their prisoner, Thraangzi said nothing, but his stern expression spoke volumes. He was the boss for a reason. Chiefly, because he was the bigger of the two of them and had already beaten Lugat into his place on numerous occasions. Shuffling back the way he came, Lugat grumbled but obeyed.

Thraangzi watched the Black Uruk retreat into the darkness with a scowl. Stupid Lugat. The bloke was good for a laugh, but he got on Thraangzi's last tit half the time. Maybe once Rukhash was done being mad at him, they could ditch the fool somewhere.

Turning towards his captive, Thraangzi grinned widely, the annoyance that was Lugat forgotten. The Man was still struggling, wringing his wrists against the rope that bound him. He had managed to roll onto his side, and Thraangzi had a nice view of the whirling burns across his back. Not a bad day's work, but they weren't done yet.

"Now," Thraangzi purred as he kicked the Man onto his back, the charred spur pointed at his abdomen, "where were we? Right about here, I think..." Thraangzi thrust the point along the man's ribs and smiled at the smell of burning flesh.

Cadoc clenched his teeth, refusing to scream.

* * *

Annoyed, Lugat stalked down the long, winding tunnel that led to the back cavern. Stupid Thraangzi, always pushing him around. Stupid Thraangzi and his stupid, weepy sister. If he wasn't so anxious about being about on his own, he would have stormed out like he threatened, but  _tarks_  were everywhere nowadays. It wouldn't do to get caught by a pack of them alone.

Pausing near the cubby where they stashed their stolen loot, Lugat peeked in to make sure everything was how he left it the last time. It was. The weapons and armor and packs from waylaid travelers and the random, lone rangers they had come across over the past two years were right where they should be; gathering dust. They had already picked out the best weapons for themselves. Lugat patted the sharp sword at his hip and continued down the tunnel.

He wasn't sure what Thraangzi was going on and on about. His waif of a sister didn't seem like anything. Something that cried like  _that_  couldn't cause them too much trouble. Besides, how scared of her could he be? He was out in the main cave killing her  _shaûk_. If Thraangzi really was all that concerned about what she would do, he would have let the pair of them go. You didn't kill someone's  _shaûk_  and expect them to be cheerful about it after.

It seemed like one, big mess to Lugat. Maybe he  _should_  bugger off, and leave that pair to their own family drama. Nothing but trouble came out of sticking your neck between quarreling kin. Then again, there might be some man flesh to be had at the end of it all. May as well stick around a bit. He was going to gag that bint once he was back there, though. If he had to sit with her all night, he intended to get some shut eye, and he had no desire to listen to her wailing.

The mouth of the rear tunnel came into view. There were no lights or fires back here, but Lugat didn't need them. Thraangzi always carried a torch when he was stuck in pitch blackness, but Lugat's eyes were made for it. He had been born in the black pits of Mordor, just like his sire and dam and their sire and dam before them. If anything, he thought of the darkness with a sense of comfort, like a cloak shielding him from danger. Uruk hai and their weak eyes! Thraangzi's runt sister was probably back there, seeing only darkness around her, and shitting her pants.

Stopping short at the mouth of the cave, Lugat blinked, slack jawed, at the sight before him. The ropes he used to tie the orcess up were in a messy heap on the ground. Otherwise, aside from the bones piled along the back, the cave was completely empty. Where had she gone? There was only one way in and out, and that was the tunnel he had just come down. Snuffing, Lugat stepped further into the cave, his eyes scanning frantically, hoping there was something he had missed.

Suddenly, a minor detail out of Thraangzi's mouth pushed to the forefront of the Black Uruk's mind.  _Her goblin dad taught her all sorts a sneaky shit._  Lugat honestly hadn't thought about it when they caught her, the differences between Thraangzi and his sister. Lugat had a pair of rat-like feet and long arms himself. All orcs did, except Uruk hai, so he hadn't put two and two together. She wasn't small because she was a runty Uruk, who wouldn't have the dexterity to climb a wall, she was half _goblin._

Before he could turn to check the ceiling, a weight thumped onto his back and there was no time to shout before a sharp  _something_  stabbed into his neck. It kept stabbing and Lugat struggled to bellow, but all that came out was gushing blood.

Rukhash stood over the body of the Black Uruk as he bled out onto the cavern floor.  _Idiot Uruks_ , her father's long ago words came back to her.  _Stupid cunts never think ta look up..._  She managed to keep it quiet, but Rukhash thought she was going to wait forever, braced awkwardly between those stalactites, before this bastard showed up.

She caught Lugat off guard, but she couldn't wait back here for Thraangzi. He might be too caught up with torturing Cadoc to notice the smell of his comrade's blood. And that tunnel was  _long_. It would probably take a while for the scent to waft out to the main cave anyhow. Rukhash tossed the bloody, splintered rib bone back into the pile of its fellows. She would need a better weapon than  _that_  against her brother.

Relieving Lugat of the sword at his hip, Rukhash snuck along the wall of the tunnel. Her eyes were good enough in black dark that she could discern the outline of edges, and dim shapes but without  _any_  ambient light, she could not make out distinct forms. It was like looking through a foggy window. If Lugat hadn't been so broad, she would have feared she would miss him when she dropped down from the ceiling. An errant fear that Thraangzi would suddenly show up ahead of her or pop out from behind a rock made her heart race. She had no idea how she would fight him. Cadoc might have taught her a little swordsmanship, but Rukhash knew she would be no match for her brother. Thraangzi had spent the whole of his life in battle and managed to come out the other side of a War. Rukhash was worried for her sprog. Thraangzi might not kill her, but he could hurt her badly, and she was in no condition for a throttling.

What she needed was her bow, but she had no clue where it could be. Her and Cadoc's weapons were not in the main cavern, and they weren't in the cave in the back. Were there other tunnels off of the main cave she hadn't noticed? Or more branching off of the entrance? Rukhash bit her lip, anxious as she pushed forward. It would seem the sword would have to do.

Her hand, which she had been using to guide herself along the wall, suddenly dipped into nothingness and Rukhash nearly pitched head first into the little nook of a hole cut into the rock. Catching herself, she glanced into the shallow cave and nearly laughed. There, propped neatly against the wall only a few feet away, was the familiar shape of her longbow and quiver of arrows. Rukhash grinned at her weapons like they were old friends.

"Why hello, my little birds..."

* * *

Thraangzi was trying to decide if he should take the Ranger's trousers off. It seemed more like a good place to end, a crescendo of sorts, but he was becoming annoyed that the Man kept nodding off in between jabs. Even Thraangzi's disquieting descriptions of screwing Rukhash seemed to have little effect at this point.

Thraangzi wasn't going to eat his sister's sprog. That would be the only thing that would cheer her up after her Man was gone. Besides, he liked mites. Nor did he intend to screw her. Not that orcs were terribly particular in that area, but she really wasn't his type. Even grown, with a full set of tits and everything, Rukhash looked an adolescent Uruk girl to him, and that was never Thraangzi's bag. Not that he was going to tell this prick  _that_. The sick expression on the Ranger's face had made every word of his lie more than worth it. It was more fun than poking him with hot sticks! Thraangzi had enjoyed coming up with more and better shit to disgust him before the Man had become so unresponsive. The internal bleeding was probably getting to him.

Glaring down at the Ranger, the hot poker inches above his face, Thraangzi had a notion to burn out his other eye. That was sure to wake the bastard up a bit. But there were drawbacks to that. On one hand, being completely blinded might make the rest of what Thraangzi had planned all the more horrifying for him. On the other, Thraangzi  _wanted_ him to see what he looked like at the end of it all. He might clear pass out from it, but he had produced a particularly pleasing scream with the other one, and Thraangzi was disappointed he hadn't said much of anything since.

_Decisions, decisions..._

"THRAANGZI!"

His whole body was thrown to the side by the force of the arrow. Thraangzi lost his footing and fell to the ground. Coughing blood, he looked from the gray shaft buried several inches into the right side of his chest to his sister at the rear of the cave as she drew another arrow and pointed it at him.

"I told you ta leave 'im be!" Rukhash snarled. "I  _told you_  we was  _shaûk_."

Struggling to his feet, Thraangzi backed up a pace from the Man, eyeing his sister warily. When did Rukhash learn to use a bow? Not that she needed much skill at this distance, but still... she had been a wretched archer as a girl. It's why she was sent to the breeding pits. She really  _hadn't_  been good for anything else.

Blood was starting to coat his tongue, and Thraangzi swallowed it down. "So this is how it is, yea? You'll off me over some stinkin'  _tark_?"

"I'll off you over my  _shaûk_ ," Rukhash growled. "Whatever it is Cadoc done ta you, you let it go. You let it go, or I'll let it go fer ya."

"'Let it go'?" Thraangzi spat red onto the cave floor. "He killed  _my_  shaûk  _and_  my kids... my li'l lads. I had ta hold one of 'em while 'e  _died_  an' you want me ta let that shit go? Would  _you_  let it go?"

Rukhash nearly faltered at that, and it would have been her head if she lowered her weapon. Her eyes flicked briefly to Cadoc where he lay, barely moving, on the ground. Somehow, seeing he still had his trousers on made her feel a sense of relief, but other than that he was a bruised and bloody mess. Even though it shouldn't have been, it was hard for Rukhash to equate the man she knew with what Thraangzi accused him of. She could not imagine him offing sprogs in a den, no matter how hard she tried. But, that had been his life once, hadn't it? Fighting her people. Killing them. She had always known it, and it wasn't as if he ever tried to tell her otherwise. Now, here it was, come up to bite him in the arse, and Rukhash refused to let it happen. Whatever he had done, Rukhash would stand by him. That was her promise as his  _shaûk_.

Looking at the furious, scarred face of her brother, Rukhash felt her first, true sense of empathy. She knew exactly how he felt right now. She had felt for Baladnor, in many ways still  _did_  feel for Baladnor, what Thraangzi felt for Cadoc. Rukhash knew the shape of that hate. She knew its smell and feel and taste. She knew it so intimately, it was practically a part of her at one point.

"I already done it," she told him, her voice quiet. "I had to, or I'd a never been able to look ahead. You can't let yerself get stuck in it Thraangzi, or it'll fuckin' eat ya away til yer nothin'."

Though his breathing was labored, a thoughtful look passed over her brother's face, and Rukhash thought, for a moment, that she might actually talk him out of his revenge. Then, he snarled, baring his red stained teeth, and ducked his head. "The fuck're you talkin' about?" he hissed. " I don't remember ya ever bein' this heady when you was a mite. Did this prick do somethin' queer ta you? Yer standin' there, pointin' a fuckin' arrow at me, sayin' 'let it go' and 'don't get stuck', an' I don't think I know you. The sister I knew'd get an eye fer an eye. That's the sis I remember."

"Thirteen years're a long time,  _brother_ ," Rukhash told him and firmed her posture, drawing back the arrow a little more. She ignored the steady burning in her shoulder. "I been through a lotta shit without you, but I always liked you. Looked up ta ya e'er since I were a brat. 'At's why we're standin' here havin' a nice chat instead a you bein' face down in the dirt." Rukhash's face grew stony. "I lost a  _shaûk_  already, and I ain't loosin' this one so's you can get yer rocks off. In the choice between you an' Cadoc, it ain't no fuckin' choice."

"Turn around, walk the fuck outta here and leave us alone," Rukhash growled, " or I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, an that's the end of it."

He broke the end of the arrow sticking out of him, and a long line of blood rand down his right side. Rukhash could hear the wheeze in his chest, the gurgling sound of his breath. She had purposefully aimed to injure him badly, but she could treat an arrow to the lungs if she got to it fast enough. However, Thraangzi didn't seem inclined to back down, and let her tend his wound. He glowered at her, unmoving. Rukhash's grip was starting to slip, and she gingerly repositioned her fingers. Her shoulders were on fire, and the longer they stood here, staring at each other, the more likely she was to loose her arrow drawn against him.

It was s subtle shift, but Thraangzi noticed Rukhash's attempt to get better purchase on the fletch. "Or," he offered, "maybe I'll snatch that bow outta yer hand an' beat some sense inta ya."

"You try that and it's the end of it."  _Thraangzi,_ she thought desperately.  _Don't make me do this._  Rukhash didn't want to kill her brother.

That reluctance must have shown, because Thraangzi smiled a knowing smile at her. "You ain't gonna do it," he reasoned, taking a small step forward. "You ain't gonna kill me. If ya were you'd a done it already. This bloke ain't yer  _shaûk_. If he was, we wouldn't be talkin' right now."

"Thraangzi..." Rukhash warned, straitening her shoulders.

"You ain't never had them kinds a guts," he hissed. "So _do it already_ , if yer gonna." Her brother pulled a short, wide blade from its place at his hip. "'Cause I'm gonna have this bastard's head if ya don't."

Moving quick, even with an arrow buried in his lung, Thraangzi drew his sword around in a wide arc, aiming for Cadoc's neck, and Rukhash didn't hesitate. Her arrow flew true, striking her brother in the chest, a breath above his heart, and he fell back with a barking yelp.

He was lying half on his side, the sword fallen from his hand, still alive.  _Tough bastard_ , Rukhash thought as she stepped forward. Threading another arrow, she positioned herself between Thraangzi and Cadoc. Her brother's breathing was quick and shallow. That last arrow would kill him, but Rukhash was going to make sure. There were consequences to letting your enemy live. Thraangzi might not have been her enemy before, but he was  _Cadoc's_ , and any enemy of Cadoc was _her_  enemy.

Rukhash leveled her aim at his heart. Thraangzi was awake, unable to move, but most likely able to hear her. "I'm real sorry, Thraangzi," she told him, and hoped he understood that she truly was. "You always was one a my favorites..."

He tried to speak but the only thing out of his mouth was bubbling blood. He bared his teeth at her instead, his face contorting into a disgusted grimace, and Rukhash knew that his last words would not have been as kind as hers had been to him. Rukhash wouldn't have expected anything else. She fired a third arrow and his body jerked as it struck home. Thraangzi's face went slack, his head rolling limply to the side. Both his good eye and the scarred one stared at something far away.

She was trembling. At first, Rukhash thought it was the strain on her shoulders from holding the bow taught for so long, but then she realized her vision had blurred. Touching her cheek, she felt her face was wet.

_Not now_ , she berated herself, and knelt next to Cadoc's side, turning her back on her brother's corpse. "Cadoc," she called to him, cupping his face. His right eye fluttered open and shut briefly and a small, breathy moan escaped his lips before he went still and quiet again.

Looking at the condition he was in, Rukhash thought she might start crying again. His left eye was completely mangled, a burned, charred mess, and his whole body was covered with blackened skin and patchy, bubbling burns. A series of long, wide welts wrapped around his ribcage and continued onto his back. He was struggling to breathe. She needed to treat his injuries, but she wouldn't do that right next to her brother as he rotted.

Cadoc would be easier for her to move than Thraangzi. Pulling their sleeping roll off the pile of traveling gear, she gently shifted Cadoc on top of it and took the edges near his head in her fists. Pulling him towards the mouth of the cave was a slow and tedious process. It wasn't so much that he was too heavy for her, but that she wanted to jostle him as little as possible. She kept kicking rocks out of her way and taking stops when her back started to get stiff, but she managed to get him outside eventually. He had barely moved or said a word the whole time, and she was worried. Thraangzi had hurt him bad.

Daylight was waning, the sky blushing into darkness, so Rukhash worked quickly to bind and salve his wounds. There wasn't much that needed stitching, but she was glad to find some extra bandages stashed away among the stolen packs in the back cave. Cadoc's ribs were badly bruised, and she needed to bind them thoroughly and tightly to make sure they healed. His eye she could do very little for aside from making sure it did not become infected. She debated stitching it closed, but was worried puss or infection might build up behind his lid. So, she covered his eye and hoped for the best. She didn't have the nerve to pry open his bloody eyelid to give it a good look over at the moment, so she was not entirely sure what condition his actual  _eye_  was in. The skin around it was so, horribly burned, she decided it would be best to leave it be and see how it healed.

By the time Cadoc was bandaged and stitched, it was dark. Rukhash lit a low fire near him. The entrance to the cave was shadowed by a deep, slate ledge. It was its own little cave of a sorts, almost like a porch, and Rukhash felt sure nothing would come after Cadoc while she ducked inside to retrieve their belongings.

She couldn't look at Thraangzi's body as she crossed the cavern to gather their things. She would come back in here tomorrow to rifle through the weapons in the back and find Cadoc's sword. Maybe then she could allow herself to think about what happened here, but for now she needed their food and clothes and a blanket for Cadoc. His breathing had become frighteningly shallow. Rukhash needed to know he would be all right before she allowed herself to process anything else.

She could barely eat, so she settled next to Cadoc, gently laying her head on his shoulder; afraid to put too much weight on him. Rukhash wanted to weep, but she couldn't. She wanted to scream and rage and tear something to pieces, but she felt as if her whole body was weighed down by sorrow. She wanted to bring Thraangzi back from the dead so she could kill him again, and wake Cadoc up so she could slap him shitless for being such an utter  _prick_. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up to a world where she had never happened across her brother.

A soft flutter in her belly roused Rukhash from her thoughts, and she placed her hand over the subtle curve of her abdomen. "It's all right lil' blighter," she whispered. "Yer dad'll be okay..."


	40. Truths

**Splint**

**Chapter Forty: Truths**

* * *

The light of late afternoon bathed the white walls of Minas Tirith in soft pink. On the east end of the upper level, a series of carpenters and masons perched precariously on wooden benches suspended on rough rope pulleys. Ingrid looked up from the ground to the impressive height above her, knowing her son was up there somewhere; so far away that she could no more discern him from a sparrow.

Clutching her hand tenatively to her throat, Ingrid hastened along the walk to the stair that would lead her up the back of the wall. It took her a dozen minutes to reach the top, despite her hurried pace, and by the time she reached the workmen's section she was near to out of breath. She found Rededir hunched over a low wodden table with several other master craftsman. As she approached the master carpenter, he lifted his head, smiling at her. Excusing himself from whatever discussion he was engaged in, Rededir approached her with a broad smile. He was an old friend of her family, and Ingrid had not seen him since he rode of to Minis Tirith with her son in tow. He looked not much older, his grey beard a little grayer, but other than that he was no worse for the few years passed. His eyes still sparkled brightly.

"Ingrid," Rededir greeted, taking her outstretched hands. "Holgar said you were coming."

"I hope you can spare him for a little while," Ingrid replied with a smile, truly excited. Smiling, Rededir pointed her towards a newly built stairwell.

Her stomach fluttered with nervous excitement as she walked up towards the scaffolding along the top of the wall. There, silhouetted against the setting sun, was her son. Holgar was filing away the trowels and buckets that he had used that day, so his back was mainly to her, but already Ingrid could tell that he had grown several inches.

She had not laid eyes her son in over two years, and seeing him grow through letters had not always been easy, but that had been Holgar's choice and she had supported it whole heartedly. He was not required, by any means, to follow his master here; he had wanted to. Not only to get away from a troubling home life, but to see the world. Ingrid had wanted to come and visit, but Baladnor's injury made it impossible for him to travel, and she could not leave him to fend for himself for weeks on end. He had needed her. Now that he was well, Ingrid almost didn't know what to do with days not filled with looking after him, or worrying when he would stubbornly go out with his orc hunting friends. Ingrid had never liked any of them – they always seemed to be taking advantage of her husband's situation – but Baladnor needed their company at the time. He had been ashamed that he was so dependent on her. Ingrid supposed it helped him to get away for a while.

Now he was free of all of that, and so was she. She promised herself, in that moment, that she would visit her son more often. The trip to Minas Tirith had only taken a few weeks. It was a shame this trip came under such dour circumstances.

Not daring enough to approach the edge of the wall – they were at such a frightening height – Ingrid waited for her son to finish what he was doing before shouting a greeting. She didn't want to startle him. Turning, Holgar noticed her immediately and his whole face lit up. He rushed up and embraced her fiercely, and Ingrid was surprised to find she was crying. She really had missed him.

"Ma," Holgar took hold of her shoulders and leaned back to look at her. He appraised her silently, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You look well," he said softly.

"I am," she replied, forcing back tears. "I am better than I have been in many years."

A small, knowing smile graced his lips. "Good," he said, relief in his voice; as though he had been waiting to hear those words from her for a long time. He put his arm around her shoulder and led her back down the way she had come. Ingrid couldn't believe how tall he was! She was a little startled by his beard, which – aside from that fact that he now  _had_  a beard – had obviously not been trimmed in over a fortnight. She shook her head quietly in reproach. She would scold him about his tidiness later. Right now, she was so happy to see him, she thought she might burst.

Holgar led her down to a pub on one of the middle levels. It was quiet and brightly lit and not too crowded, so they would not have to shout over boisterous talking or singing. The patronage consisted mostly of families or older pairs.

Ingrid smiled a knowing smile at her son as he sat across from her. "Why do I think this is not your normal establishment?"

Glancing about, Holgar fixed her with a mischievous grin. "How did you know?"

"I would imagine," Ingrid said, "a young man in the city on his own might choose a more... colorful location to spend his free time. I was young once too, you know. Ethring may not be as large as the Capital, but it does have its night life." Ingrid smiled, remembering younger, headstrong years, before she met Cadoc, when she was serving under a seamstress; intent on finding her own way in the world. She had no intension of ever being a wife at that point. How Cadoc had managed to convince her otherwise still baffled her...

Holgar held up his hand. "You do not need to elaborate," he said with an uncomfortable laugh. "Somehow, though, I doubted you would appreciate some of the lower level taverns."

"Oh Holgar," Ingrid shook her head. "I am more than pleased with your choice. I am far too old for  _that_  sort of nonsense."

They ordered a round of drinks and supper and Ingrid sat for a moment, quietly regarding her son. She couldn't believe how much he favored his father. Holgar had inherited her bright hair, but other than that he was all Cadoc; from his grey eyes to his straight nose to his angular face.

Endeavoring to avoid the inevitable conversation to come, Ingrid chose the most innocuous topic she could. "Tell me how you have been."

Holgar raised a brow at her. "It seems as though the past few months have been far more eventful for  _you_  than they have been for me."

Ingrid said nothing, folding her hands under her chin with a smile. Sighing, Holgar resettled in his seat and shrugged. "It has been how it has been for a while. There is still much to do to restore the city, even all these years later. Master Rededir has made me head apprentice," he added with a cocky grin. "I have a few lads under me."

Ingrid beamed at him. "You always were clever," she praised. "I am not surprised that Rededir recognizes that."

He looked ready to question her, but Ingrid decided to keep the wolf at bay a little longer. "And what about the young _ladies_  of Minas Tirith?" Ingrid added with a wink.

His eyes went round before he leaned back with a serious expression. "I wouldn't know," Holgar told her dryly, though Ingrid caught a slight twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Every night I return to my boarding room and read philosophy."

"Keep your secrets, then," Ingrid said, with a fond shake of her head.

"I didn't think I would see you so soon," he pressed before Ingrid could think of another question to distract him with. "I assumed you would be at the hearing."

It seemed as though her son would not be diverted by small talk. Leaning back in her seat, Ingrid shut her eyes briefly. This would probably be a tedious conversation. "Baladnor insisted that  _he_  go," she waived her hand through the air dismissively. "Frankly I am glad I am not there. I doubt there is anything I could say that Baladnor wouldn't, and meeting the King... Well, I would probably faint dead away."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Holgar told her with a wry smile. "I am actually somewhat surprised," he admitted, "that Baladnor would so readily speak for father. The two of them have never, exactly, gotten along."

"He is grateful... and so am I," she said in a quiet voice. "You should see him now, Holgar. He is the man I married. Baladnor and I... we have a fresh start."

Holgar smiled at her softly. He drummed his fingers lightly on the table, thoughtful, and a long minute of silence stretched between them. "What have you heard, Holgar?" Ingrid asked, noting his long face. "I know what is being said about your father is awful, but Cadoc is no  _traitor_. You will see, once this is done, Magistrate Halbard will be reinstated and your father's name cleared."

"What of the  _other thing_  he is accused of?" Holgar asked, his voice flat.

"Nonsense," Ingrid scoffed. "Aradhel is mad for believing a word out of Barmund's mouth!"

"I received a letter from Aunt Edda not long after yours arrived," Holgar told her. "She sounded nearly hysterical-"

"Of course she did!" Ingrid felt her face grow hot with fury. "You should have seen those men come through town after Barmund was freed. They harangued us as if we had an army of those creatures stashed away in our root cellars! They troubled your poor aunt and uncle most of all. Edda and I have had our differences, but she did not deserve to be treated like some manner of criminal."

"I received a letter from father as well," Holgar said quietly.

"You did?"

Nodding, Holgar swallowed visibly, staring into the amber liquid in his glass. He said nothing more and Ingrid grew anxious. What had Cadoc written? What could have her son looking so drawn?

"Well, Holgar," Ingrid pressed, "what did it say? Or is this another one that you decided to burn without reading?"

"It said..." Holgar paused and released a long breath through his nose. A bitter look came over him "He apologized to me for the hundredth time," he said.

"Well," Ingrid said uncertainly, "that sounds like what he usually writes..."

"And he said that he 'met someone'," Holgar added in a grim voice. "He informed me it would be a while before he was able to write again, because he was traveling east to live with her people. I hadn't heard from you and Aunt Edda yet. I assumed he had met an Easterling woman, or a girl from Nûrn; someone foreign. I did not realize, until after I read your letter,  _how_  foreign." A troubled expression came over his face, and Ingrid though he looked pale all of a sudden. Ingrid certainly could understand that. She felt a little pale herself.

Leaning conspiratorially towards her, he whispered,"You met it?"

Ingrid's eyes darted around briefly, making sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. The closest table was a younger couple who seemed more interested in each other than anything around them. Ingrid breathed an inward sigh of relief. It would be better if no one overheard them talking about this. "She  _did_  cure Baladnor," Ingrid confirmed. "I was there for that. I met her previously as well; when she first arrived at your aunt's home."

Though he said nothing, Holgar's expression begged for her to continue. "You want to know what I think of her?" Holgar nodded and Ingrid licked her lips, unsure of what to say. It was a little jarring, discovering what Cadoc had told their son. Ingrid's voice seemed to stick in her throat. In all honesty, the thought of what Cadoc's words implied made Ingrid feel a little sick.

"When I first met her," Ingrid started slowly, "I honestly was surprised by her... civility. Her visage is very off putting, but she was quick to assure me she 'meant no harm'. Then, we discovered that she was the same orc that wounded Baladnor and I-" she paused briefly, remembering the rage she felt when they all discovered the truth.

"I hated her, Holgar," Ingrid admitted. "I was  _pleased_  when I found out she was near death, after Barmund attacked her. Even when she came to our home with that cure, I hated her... And she was so... smug when she gave it to him. So... spiteful." Covering her mouth, Ingrid swallowed down the emotion building behind her eyes. "Yet, now he walks with no trouble. His pain is gone. Despite everything, I find that I am grateful to her. But I cannot say what kind of  _person_  she is. I cannot tell you whether or not your father made a wise choice. He knows her far better than I-"

"It does not seem like a wise choice to me," Holgar interjected. "Ma... an  _orc_."

"I know," Ingrid whispered, gesturing for him to keep his voice down. Their waitress approached with two small fowls in little clay bowls and set their meal in front of them. Ingrid smiled at her graciously and thanked her. She made sure the young woman was back to chatting with the bartender before continuing the conversation.

"Holgar you can tell  _no one_ ," Ingrid hissed. "If not for your father's sake, then think of Magistrate Halbard. He is being held responsible for his decisions while she was at the village. He is an honorable man, and a fair one, and he should not be punished based on an  _opinion_."

"Honestly, ma," Holgar sighed and poked at his supper with a fork. "Who would I tell? Besides, it barely matters at this point. Those who know about father's situation already assume the worst. I overheard someone say that he had gone mad and went on a killing spree."

Ingrid snorted indelicately. It really  _wasn't_  funny, that people would say such things, but just the thought of it! "That is ridiculous," she said dismissively. Holgar did not seem as amused by the rumors going around. "Holgar," she soothed, "does that really sound like something your father would do? A killing spree? For whatever else he is, he is one of the gentlest men I have ever met. Even when he is furious, he makes no show of temper."

"I would not think him to lay with an orc, either," Holgar muttered.

"Well," Ingrid sighed, "nor would I. Really, if I knew he were  _that_  lonely I would have pointed that spinster Doromes in his direction and let her have at it. She has been keeping a shrewd eye on him for the past year." Ingrid tried to imagine Cadoc alongside that round faced, chattering woman, patiently nodding as she went on and on about one asinine thing after another. With a waning smile, Ingrid was troubled to see her son did not find Doromes and her overbearing affections as humorous as she did.

"This doesn't upset you?" Holgar asked with a frown.

"Oh, Holgar," Ingrid shook her head sadly. "If I did not laugh I would weep for him. He is in a terrible situation right now. The punishment for treason is  _death_. Our marriage may be over, but I bear your father no ill will. There was a time when none knew me better than he did; and though that time is long passed, he is still dear to me, if for no other reason than giving me you."

Her son fixed her with a dark look. "It does not anger you? Year after year he rode off without a backwards glance, and he would give it all up for that...thing, but he could not do it for  _us_."

Ingrid regarded him for a long minute. Cadoc's situation  _now_  was not his situation six years ago. "The world is not what it was," Ingrid said softly. "Before, he felt as though he had something to defend; he thought that he was beating back a greater evil. I hated it, that he would put that duty before us, but all these years later, I do understand his mind, to some extent." Understanding Cadoc did not make his absence any less painful, but he had not left them yearly without reason. That much, Ingrid would defend him in. The rest of it, the cooling between them; growing every season to realize that he seemed like a stranger to her, more reticent and closed off. That, she could never fathom. They had been husband and wife. He should have been able to share the burden of his troubles with her.

"You know, he rode north last season," Ingrid told her son, shaking off old grievances. "In all the years I have known him, he has never ridden  _north_ , not when there was so much trouble at the border. Most of the men in his Order are honor guard in Emyn Arnen now. I cannot imagine Cadoc idly twiddling his thumbs, looking after princes and lordlings. That  _would_  drive him mad. The wild places of the world are mostly tamed; Gondor is a safe and prosperous nation. What is here for him, after a season of escorting traders along their route and breaking up tavern brawls like a common lawman? I am long remarried, you refuse to speak to him-"

Holgar looked affronted. "You would blame  _me_  for this?"

"Never!" Ingrid told him earnestly. That had not been her point at all. "But _try_  to see this from his perspective. What is there for him to come home to?"

"He has Aunt Edda," Holgar reasoned. "He has grandmother and Morwen and Wulf-"

"And Cadoc loves his mother and sister dearly," Ingrid interrupted, "but that is not the same thing as sharing your  _life_  with someone."

"You talk as if he is with a Woman," Holgar said with a shudder, "not some... creature."

"Well..." Ingrid trailed off with a helpless shrug. Ingrid ever thought she would be forced to defend the orc that injured Baladnor. "She is not some mindless animal, I can say that. Perhaps he finds her – oh, I don't know – exciting. And she really isn't  _so_  ugly. Strange looking, but I suppose I can see the... attraction." She really couldn't. Cadoc's orc may not have resembled something that crawled out of a bog, but she was still a feral looking creature. Picturing the two of them together in  _that_  way... Well, Ingrid simply couldn't. Or, at least, she really didn't want to. Her son looked unconvinced by her unsure reassurances. "You cannot say who your heart will choose, Holgar."

He scoffed, averting her gaze and crossing his arms. Ingrid did not want to leave him with a bad impression. He already thought so little of his father. "Holgar," Ingrid said quietly, "I may not understand your father's choice, but I do not begrudge Cadoc his happiness; especially now that I have my own life back. If he is happy with her, then I wish him well. Your father should not suffer for the narrow perception of others. As strange as his affair might seem, do you really think that such a choice should be met with something so severe as  _death_?"

A thoughtful look came over Holgar's face. "No," he admitted quietly. "I still do not forgive him for what he did to us," he added, meeting her gaze. "You can excuse it however you like. He abandoned us when we needed him most."

Ingrid wondered if her and Cadoc's stubbornness had somehow perfected itself in their son. She picked lightly at the bird in front of her. Their dinner was nearly cold. "At this point, Holgar, I doubt he expects you to... but try not to hate him too much. It was not an easy time for anyone." Her son nodded, silent, though his scowl hadn't softened.

"And burn that letter he sent you," she whispered fiercely. "There is no, real proof of his liaison at this point, and if someone were to  _find_  proof, it would go all the more badly for him. Let us hope the King rescinds the charges against him and that is the end of it. If your father never returns, then no one will be the wiser."

Silently, her son took a long drink from his mug, his gaze far away, and Ingrid wondered what was going through his head. She hated that there was so much hurt still left in him. A little part of her was annoyed at Cadoc, despite her defense of his actions. He might have tried to find some reconciliation between himself and his son before he flitted off to another country.

"Do you think he is all right?" Holgar asked quietly, a sad expression overtaking him.

"I don't know," Ingrid admitted. Taking a deep breath she added, "but your father is a resourceful man. I am sure he is staying one step ahead of the men hunting him."

"What about the hearing?" Holgar pressed. "What do you think the King will decide?"

Ingrid shook her head. How did children know to ask the questions that you could never answer? "I'm not sure, but I  _am_  sure that we have a wise and just King. Hopefully, he will be more reasonable than that Aradhel."

* * *

Aragorn son of Arathorn, crowned King Elessar Telcontar and twenty-sixth king of Gondor looked upon the collection of men in the closed court with a feeling of exasperation. The tale he had been told by the bailiff that prepped him for over an hour before this hearing was filled with so many holes, it may have been a block of aged Hobbit cheese. Never mind that it seemed to be a matter that, at the start, could have been solved relatively simply.

Halbard Aphedor, a magistrate – former magistrate by Aradhel Torthor's proclamation – of a small hamlet and the surrounding farmsteads in Lamedon, stood before him, his grey head bowed respectfully, and Aragorn had no idea what to do with him or where to begin.  _Well_ , he thought wearily,  _we may as well begin at the beginning._  "Tell me Halbard," Aragorn questioned, glancing briefly at the notes he had jotted down prior to this inquiry, "what possessed you to speak to this orc in the first place?"

"Elador and Cadoc made a desperate plea in her favor," Halbard replied with an anxious gesture. "I endeavored to heed the words of wiser men. 'If an orc surrenders and asks for mercy-'"

"I am aware of the passage," Aragorn interrupted. The day was late, and his temper very thin. His morning had been filled with several, minor territory disputes and he was still required to sit through a meeting with the representatives of Harad. He did not have all night to listen to age old wisdom. " _Did_  the orc ask for mercy?"

Swallowing anxiously, Halbard tried to remember if Rukhash had ever asked such a thing, and he could not remember a single instance. "She surrendered peacefully," he said at last. "I did not think to aim for literal interpretation." King Elessar nodded silently and motioned for him to continue. "I was moved by the story she told," Halbard admitted and heard a quiet scoff from Aradhel behind him. Ignoring it, he pressed on. "She had been orphaned by the War, and lost the family she built for herself afterwards. I pitied her, my lord. It was obvious she endured great grief at the loss of her mate and children."

Frowning, Aragorn tried to wrap his head around the concept of an aggrieved orc. "I admire your depth of charity," he admitted. "So, you allowed it to stay in your village..."

"Yes, my lord," Halbard confirmed, somewhat bolstered by the King's praise. "On the stipulation that she caused no harm to anyone, I, in turn, afforded her lawful protection. She spent the next few weeks with Cadoc's kin with no untoward behavior."

"Then, the orc attacked one of your local orc hunters," Aragorn said, wanting to move things along. He glanced at the dark haired man standing stiffly at Halbard's side, and the man stepped forward; his blue eyes darting and anxious.

"Baladnor son of Tobor," the man said, bowing slightly. "And she did not attack me, my lord, so much as she attempted to do so. Cadoc pulled her away before she was able to do me any harm."

"I am led to believe the orc  _already_  did you harm," Aragorn said, looking the man over. He stood straight, obviously uncomfortable to be here, but otherwise unhindered. He did not seem to be in any pain at all. If what his physician wrote was true, then this was a remarkable recovery from what he had suffered before. "Though to see you now, I might doubt it," he added.

"I still bear the wound she gave me," Baladnor told him, straightening. "Though, it is lessened considerably from what it was."

"If it please you," Aragorn nodded to him, "I would see it."

Baladnor had anticipated this request. He unbuttoned the middle buttons of his shirt and bore the scar in his middle. It was no longer black and unnaturally hard, but still very obviously there. A constant reminder of what he had done and what was done to him.

Aragorn frowned grimly. Even if the injury had not been poisoned, it still looked quite significant. This man was lucky to have survived it in the first place. "And this orc reversed the poison after you warned of the attack planned on it?" Aragorn asked. "So, it healed you out of gratitude?"

He would not use her exact words; they would hardly be appropriate for the court of Minas Tirith, but Baladnor knew Rukhash's antidote was not meant to be an exchange for services rendered. "No," he said. "The orc informed me, quite plainly, there are still 'hard feelings' between us. She said she was trying to put the past behind her so she could 'look forward'."

The King's brows furrowed at that. "An  _orc_  said this to you?" Baladnor nodded. Aragorn leaned back, thoughtfully pressing his fingers to his mouth. He had never heard of an orc speaking with such... simple wisdom. Nor had he ever heard of an orc forgoing revenge in favor of forgiveness. For that matter, he had never come across anyone who had been  _healed_  by an orc before –aside from Merry and Pippin, and Aragorn would have hardly called that  _healing_. Apparently, this orc offered its services at least twice; once to the Ranger that ran off with it – Cadoc, he reminded himself – and once to this man, who effectively was responsible for the death of its kin. Either this creature was extremely manipulative or uncharacteristically sincere for one of its kind.

"I do not see how any of this pertains to the matter at hand,"Aradhel fumed from his place behind Halbard.

Frowning, Aragorn regarded him with shrewd, grey eyes. This man had held his position since Denethor was steward, and Aragorn had not vetted him very closely. To a certain extent, once he took possession of the crown, Aragorn had not wanted to churn the waters too much. Now that he was becoming better aquatinted with the man, he wondered if the former Steward of Gondor extended his delusion to promotions of public office. "I find it  _extremely_  relevant," Aragorn said cooly, "but by all means, Aradhel Torthor, if you wish to conduct this hearing, be my guest."

That seemed to put him in his place a little, but his wide face was still flushed with indignation. "We speak of an orc that has done witchcraft on these people! Their testimony is hardly valid."

Glancing in the direction of Halbard and Baladnor he said, "They do not seem bewitched to me." Aradhel made an inarticulate noise of discontent and Aragorn glared at him. "Do you not think, magistrate, that your King possesses the awareness to sense the presence of dark magic?"

Cowed but not contrite, Aradhel assumed a more diminutive posture. "I mean nothing of the sort, my lord, but the fact remains that Cadoc, son of Belon, has lain with an orc. Tell me, my King, what man in his right mind would do such a thing?"

 _Evil men_ , was his intrinsic thought, but suddenly, Aragorn found that commonly held truth on rocky footing. From his brief glance of Cadoc's record, the man did not seem like a perverse or wicked individual. He held a long account of service to Gondor, and could trace the lineage on his father's side all the way back to Númenor, barring some liberal intermixing along the way. Aragorn thought he may have even met the man at some point; Cadoc had been on Pelennor Field and at the Gates of Morannon. Aragorn could not recall his face specifically, but he was not as familiar with the younger Rangers of Gondor. He had not fought among the Dúnedain of the South in over a generation, and many of the faces he once knew as well as his own were either old men or long dead. So few had a bloodline pure enough to sustain a life as long as his...

"There is no proof of that kind of degenerate behavior," Halbard huffed, interrupting Aragorn's musings. "It is Barmund that claims this, and here say is hardly legitimate evidence. We have come with confirmation from the village physician and first hand testimony. Where is Barmund to affirm his accusation?"

"Dead," Aradhel replied, and Aragorn swore he looked almost smug to say it, as if the man's death justified his decision in some way. "Cadoc and his creature slew a portion of the men that sought them out. One of the survivors has sworn to hunt them down and bring Cadoc to justice."

" _Justice_ ," Aragorn growled, frustrated and infuriated by the pomp being displayed by the magistrate. "On what charge is he accused of, that he is to be brought to justice?"

"Why, treason, my lord!" Aradhel cried. "I am surprised you have not been made aware-"

"I am aware of what  _you_  have charged him with, Aradhel Torthor," Aragorn said, his voice dangerously low, "but even if you accusations are true, and he has had... relations with this orc, that is not a crime worthy of  _treason_. At worst, you might charge him with moral turpitude, which hardly carries the punishment of death."

"But... my lord," Aradhel stuttered, "an  _orc_."

"I would hardly condone it," Aragorn agreed, and, indeed, it was a dreadful thought. His grim expression lightened somewhat. "But if I were to check in to the bedrooms of every man and woman of Gondor, somehow I think I may find worse than an _orc_  inside a few of them."

Aradhel looked aghast, but rallied himself with another accusation. "What of the murder he did at the Anduin? I sent men to apprehend him and he cut them down them without quarter. Noron was there," he added, nodding to the man standing stoically at his side. "He will bear witness to what happened."

After an indulgent nod from the King, Noron stepped forward. He clenched his sweaty fists into fretful balls. "My lord," he bowed slightly. "I will try to be brief. After we were charged with his capture, we cornered Cadoc at the river. Barmund insisted that he surrender and turn over his orc. He refused, and even dared to call the orc his  _wife_. We moved to apprehend him by force. Suddenly, we were accosted by arrows. Barmund was struck dead immediately, and Cadoc violently slew every man in his path before they had a chance to retreat. I barely escaped with my life."

Aragorn frowned. Referring to an orc as a wife was somewhat damning in terms of loathsome personal tastes. However, more damning was this man's account of what transpired after Cadoc's bold claim on the creature. Those men should have never been sent out in the first place; it was practically entrapment, but resisting arrest and slaying men bonded to serve Justice  _did_  require a significant punishment of some kind. Aragorn sighed inwardly. It was such a muddled story, and suspiciously well rehearsed. He wondered if it was not quite the whole truth. "I will not condemn a man without looking him in the eye," Aragorn said at length. "I will hold Cadoc, son of Belon, to the charge of manslaughter, unless he might convince me otherwise. However, I would require he be brought before me  _alive_."

"What of his indiscretions?" Aradhel asked, his beady eyes fierce. "Does such flagrant perversity carry no weight with the King?"

It was an obvious challenge. Startled by such audacity, Aragorn eyed the aging magistrate carefully. Though he could not deny his disgust at the mention of what this man had done – or presumably had done – he felt the matter was somewhat inconsequential. What a man did in the privacy of his home was hardly Aragorn's concern, but he no longer had the luxury of worrying only about his own opinion. He imagined there would be a stir if he were to so easily dismiss such a disquieting charge publicly.

He liked to think the population of Gondor was prosperous and untroubled. Great strides had been made to ensure peace and security, but peace and security made people's minds turn to trivial matters. "I will not misinterpret second hand words. If evidence – true evidence – comes to light of such an affair, then I will deal with it appropriately," he conceded.

Aradhel did not seem pleased. "And what would you do with his orc? It obviously assisted in the slaying of those men."

The matter of the orc, and what to do about it, did give him pause. How  _would_ he deal with the creature? If what Halbard and Baladnor declared was accurate, then it may be a rarity among its kind. It hardly seemed just to call for its death when it had obviously made great strides to befriend Men. Perhaps, in some respects,  _too_  great of strides, but Aragorn would hardly expect an orc to be anything but lascivious. Such immorality was inherent in their race. Then again, this orc may be exceptionally crafty, moulding its behavior to appear benign and earn the sympathy of the people it engaged. That would suit the nature of its race as well. Aragorn thought, for a moment, to bring this creature to trial alongside Cadoc, but immediately dismissed the idea. It would be a dangerous president to raise an orc to the standards of a Man.

"I hold no authority over orcs," he said slowly. "If it surrenders peacefully, then I will show it mercy. If it chooses to do harm, then it will be shown no clemency. That is how we have always dealt with orcs."

It was not the answer that the magistrate wanted to hear, but it was Aragorn's final word on the matter. Orcs had not been a threat in Gondor for years, not since the majority of their population had been cleared out, and he had thought very little on them as a whole. So long as they were not burning down homesteads, they were no concern of his. This  _one_  orc hardly seemed like a danger to his country, despite all of the trouble that had arisen around it. Aragorn would make no specific charge for or against it.

"I consider this issue closed for the time being," Aragorn announced. "Except for one matter. Halbard Aphedor, I reinstate you to your former position. Your rulings strived for fairness. You have shown unprecedented compassion in your decisions, and that is a fine quality for any magistrate to have."

Halbard bowed deeply at the waist with obvious gratitude and relief. "Thank you, my lord." Aragorn had to admit, he liked the man. In the end, magistrates were free to deal out justice based on their own discretion and local custom. It may not have been the path Aragorn would have taken, but Halbard's rulings were well reasoned and sympathetic. Though, he showed far more affability in his dealings with an orc than Aragorn might have used.

"As for you, Magistrate Aradhel," he continued, turning towards the red faced man standing near Halbard. Aradhel paled a little. "I would suggest that you confer with me before relieving men of their positions or sending out a small army to hunt down a single man for a minor offense. You will inform those men hunting him now, by whatever means necessary, the outcome of my decision. If they do come across Cadoc, he is to be apprehended, not slain indiscriminately. " Aradhel's lips drew into a thin, angry line, but he nodded, visibly relieved. Though he did not think very kindly of him as an individual, Aragorn would not relieve him of his office over this one incident; but after enduring Aradhel's demeanor, he endeavored to watch him closely.

Rising to his feet, Aragorn tilted his head obligingly to the men gathered before him. "You are dismissed."

* * *

Brushing the dust from her hands, Edda made her way to the pitcher pump near the rear of the main house to wash up a bit. She had spent the better part of the morning with Wulf and Morwen, weeding the vegetables in the side field. Now, it was nearly lunchtime, and time to feed Hallas. She imagined her mother might require a reprieve from her seven month old grandson. He was starting to become far more mobile, crawling and pulling himself up on every piece of furniture he could reach. No doubt, he was giving his poor grandmother a run around the house.

The creaking sound of wheels and the clop of a lone horse drew Edda's attention to the path leading up to the house from the main road. Nándra's bright smile beamed in the tree's shading her and rose her hand in greeting. Edda caught sight of Cadry and her brother, Lannion, squirming in the back. Lannion was very near Wulf's age and now that Hallas was a little older, Cadry and Hallas were becoming fast friends. A visit from Nándra while Hedon was away was not so unusual, but at this time of day, and in the middle of the week, was a little odd. Edda hoped nothing was the untoward.

As she pulled her draft horse to halt, Nándra reached into her dress pocked and produced a sealed envelope. WIth a poignant look she waived it in Edda's direction. "Hedon sent a letter," she said, and Edda knew that she would finally have word of her brother. The small party that would speak on Cadoc's behalf in the Capitol had left weeks ago – just after those soldiers finished their inquiries and Halbard was relieved of his duty – but so far there was no word from them. She had been wondering what was taking so long, but Halbard warned that their case might not be heard immediately. She hoped Hedon had good news for her. The not knowing was driving her mad.

They quickly tended Nándra's horse while Lannion made an immediate beeline for the vegetable garden, intent on wrangling Wulf into a game. Lifting her daughter into her arms, Nándra followed Edda up the creaking wooden steps into the house with the grim silence of a funeral procession. She handed off the letter once they were inside. Edda looked curiously at the seal and then to Nándra. "It is addressed directly to you," Nándra explained. "You should be the one to open it."

Smiling weakly, Edda stood silently for a moment, staring at the worn parchment in her hands. Nándra could understand her dread. There was no telling what news it brought. She had found it stuffed alongside Hedon's letter to her. He had made no mention of Cadoc in his writing. He spoke instead of how he missed her and the children; his good health; that the weather had been mostly amiable; the innocuous topics he would usually write about. Nándra knew there had to be more to it than that.

Hedon had discussed his plan with her before he left; they had spoke on it in great length. He feared what repercussions would come upon her for his actions. It was Nándra that finally insisted he go. Cadoc had been the one to introduce them in the first place; had been a long time friend of her husband; and Nándra was quite fond of his sister and Elador. They could not sit idly while that family was plagued by reckless madness. The man that had come to question her husband – Dellon – had the sort of face that never smiled and the remorseless eyes to match. He gave her an eerie feeling. To know someone like that was after Cadoc sent a chill up her spine. Besides, Hedon's restless brooding was vexatious. She helped him pack the night before he set out, and had been keeping a watchful, anxious eye for word from him ever since.

That word remained unopened in Edda's shaking, suntanned hands and Nándra immediately scolded herself for standing over the poor woman like e sentry. "I'll let you be alone," Nándra told her, shifting Cadry to her other hip. The girl was squirming to get down. "Just point me in the direction of Hallas."

"He's in the sitting room with mother," Edda said with an unsteady voice. With an understanding nod, Nándra left her in the kitchen alone. Her heart was pounding. Edda sat at the kitchen table and carefully broke the seal. Unfolding the paper inside, she took a deep breath.

 _Eddawen,_  it started and Edda nearly laughed. Hedon was so, unnecessarily formal.  _I write you from the halls of Lord Faramir's estate in Emyn Arnen on the eve of my departure. I have persuaded his lordship to hear Cadoc's case, in hopes that he may lend his word to your brother's defense. As I write this, we have yet to hear word of King Elessar's decision._

Frowning, Edda checked the date at the top; a fortnight ago. She wondered what fire Hedon had lit to have this missive delivered so quickly. Scanning the first few paragraphs, she felt an indescribable sense of relief. Lord Faramir insisted on seeing Cadoc himself, and would ride with his honor guard and his lady wife to search him out. Cadoc had always spoken very highly of Lord Faramir, and a daring hope welled up in her.

 _I have seen Cadoc and he is well. They are pursued, but so far have managed to elude the men hunting them. I believe, at the time of my departure from their company, they were well ahead of any that would do them injury._ Smiling, Edda almost wondered what she had been worried about. Of course Hedon would see to her brother's safety. Odd, though, that he made only vague mention of Rukhash.

 _The orc is pregnant._  Edda's heart nearly jumped in her throat. For a long moment, she could do nothing but stare at that sentence. Mentally, she berated Hedon for referring to Rukhash so callously, but then, they had never been exactly friendly.

Edda felt she shouldn't be surprised. After all, she had know for a long while now that Cadoc and Rukhash were together in such a way, but such glaring evidence to that fact was still a little jarring. This was not her brother's word or a troubling set of scratches, it was a baby. Or would be a baby. Though a little shocked, she found this news did not trouble her as she thought it might. She found that she was happy for them, especially Cadoc. He had always been fond of children.

 _What would it look like?_  she wondered. More like its mother or its father, or a balanced combination of the two? Sadly, Edda realized that she might never know. If things kept going as they were, her brother's only hope would be to vanish into Mordor. She very well might never see her little niece or nephew.

The rest of the letter assured her that, yes, Rukhash was also well, just as cantankerous as she had always been and did not seem especially troubled by the pace of their travel. Despite Hedon's reassurances and the hopeful tone of the letter overall, Edda could not deny the grief she felt at the thought of her brother and Rukhash out in the wilderness while she was expecting. They should be home safe, preparing their lives for the addition to their family, not being hunted through the hill and vale of South Gondor.

 _And with those beastly men after them_.

Edda could still remember watching those men rode up to her house. She had sternly warned the children, as they stood and watched the dark horses approach, to say nothing about their uncle's relationship with Rukhash; to answer any questions as simply as possible; and to  _not_  give them cheek. It had been infuriating, sitting at their dining room table while their whole house was turned over. Then there were the questions. Endless questions about Cadoc and Rukhash and every little detail of their activities leading up to their departure. They answered all of them, remained aloof and did not once mention that Cadoc was sleeping with the Rukhash. Edda was especially proud of Wulf. He had not referred to the orcess as 'Aunty Rukhash' once. Barmund had been furious that they were being so tight lipped about it.

_"I know what I saw," Barmund growled at Elador, frustrated that they were somehow being uncooperative while cooperating._

_"And how much whiskey did you drink, before you decided to attack my brother-in-law?" Elador replied cooly. "I can think of no law against harboring an orc, but several regarding destruction of property and home invasion."_

_Biting her cheek, Edda willed herself not to laugh. In truth, Elador was furious at the moment, barely holding in his temper, but the look on Barmund's face! He was completely red. Really, he should be in a dark cell, not in their house, wrecking their furniture and glowering at them. One of the provincial Magistrates had given him some fancy title and set him free to trouble them, outweighing Halbard's decision. Edda had never given thought to the higher workings of the judicial system, but now she wondered if it could use some tinkering._

_"There does not need to be a law against harboring orcs," a young man said, stepping forward. "Any decent person would know better than to trust them." Edda had recognized Dellon from many years before, when he stopped in briefly with her brother before a long season. To see him now, she was hard pressed to believe this was the same man. He was grave looking, hard eyed with a drawn mouth and dressed head to toe in black. Edda thought he looked humorously ominous for a boy she used to do laundry for._

_He must have noticed her mirth. He glared at her and said, "Is something about this funny, Eddawen?"_

_"Didn't I wash your drawers the last time you were here?" she replied with a smirk. Elador snorted quietly while Guthwen covered her mouth with her hand; Morwen bit her lip so hard, Edda feared she might draw blood; Wulf was beaming, and Edda hoped he did not see this as a go ahead to be cute with these men as well. Here, she had scolded the children to mind themselves, and she was the one being cheeky, but this whole charade was the most difficult thing she had ever been party to!_

_Dellon looked at her as if he intended to melt her with his eyes. "I am glad you find this so amusing. Are you content that your brother is out there with that creature? Do you not fear for him?"_

_She was terrified for her brother. Not because of Rukhash, but because of people like this searching after them. Edda's mouth firmed rebelliously. She would say nothing more. The more she talked, the more they might use against Cadoc._

_"Trust me, Eddawen," Dellon continued. "You have no idea what you are dealing with, but I do. The sooner you tell us where he is, the sooner we can save your brother from that beast."_

_"You don't want to help anyone," Morwen piped up, and Edda paled at the fierce defiance on her face. "You're just being an asshole."_

_A furious look crossed the young man's features and Edda rubbed her temple wearily._

Though they never confirmed Cadoc's relationship with the orcess, the men simply  _assumed_. They were berated and accosted like a band of murderous thieves, not upstanding citizens with a particularly strange addition to their family. And the way they spoke of her brother... one might think that Rukhash had persuaded Cadoc to begin worshipping the Dark Lord.

Edda stared at the letter in her hand and shook her head. "Wherever you are," she said quietly, "I hope you are both well." Rereading that startling little sentence, she amended herself. "All three of you."


	41. The Calvary

**Splint**

**Chapter Forty-one: The Cavalry**

* * *

Thraangzi's lair was situated atop a high cliff. Just outside the slab of rock that hung over the entrance, the land sloped gently towards a stream that flowed clear and cold along the flatter ridge and down the side of the escarpment. Here the forest was even denser than the area she and Cadoc had been hiking through before their capture. The cave itself was shadowed by great, large oaks with knotting roots that grew up and under the rocky landscape, and at the base of the ridge, the cover was so dense that the treetops looked like hilly moors flowing to the horizon; dipping down and up as they conformed to the undulating landscape.

She could not believe how close they were to the mountains. From her vantage point – a granite boulder alongside the narrow stream – Rukhash could make out the soft, blue silhouette of their objective against the blush of morning. They were only a day away; two days at most. So close, and yet, too far to move Cadoc there on her own. She would not be able to drag him such distance, over uneven terrain, without causing him further injury.

Frustrated, Rukhash refilled the pot she had been using to boil Cadoc's bandages. Their supplies were low, and she hadn't been able to glean enough usable cloth from Thraangzi's victims to be wasteful. She was washing spare bandages after every redressing of Cadoc's wounds, and those wounds were numerous. The welts on his torso had receded to form black bruises while the burns along his back and chest had become a series of red, blanching blisters.

He still hadn't opened his eyes, or rather, his  _eye_. Rukhash had finally surveyed his injured eye the day before, and it was well beyond any manner of repair. It was the most severe of his burns: yellowed with dead skin in the blisters that she had to remove before they went gangrenous. There was no hope that he would ever see out of it again. The iris and pupil were covered in a film of blood that Rukhash was sure would scar over. She had to cut away part of his eyelid. That skin had already died. The black salve would keep infection out now that the dead tissue had been removed, but she had to search out the plants she would need to keep a fever from forming. Though his breathing had become less labored, and Rukhash was sure his bruised ribs were healing apace, Cadoc was not out of the woods yet.

What she needed was  _Sharogil_ , the  _Dushgoi_  plant she used to speed healing. She had been able to find it on her mountain in the summer months, but it was still only spring, and Rukhash had no idea where to start looking. The black fern needed heavy shade and damp, warm soil to thrive. On her mountain, it had grown only in one, small area: in the hollow of a rotted tree half submerged on the bank of a river. She had harvested it carefully over the years she had been there; or not at all when she didn't need it. But its scent was extremely specific, something she knew she could sniff out if there was any nearby. She endeavored to head out in the afternoon to find some, since the immediate area seemed safe enough, with no sign animals more dangerous than a fox. Most likely, the scent of two, male Uruk hai had scared off the larger predators.

As the water heated, Rukhash glanced sidelong at the mouth of the cave, now covered over. An oval shaped, flat stone had been placed next to the entrance, something Rukhash was sure was not happenstance. Most likely, Thraangzi and Lugat used the stone to hide their cave while they were out causing mischief. It was easy to roll over the narrow opening. Rukhash had used leaves and mud to plug up the holes and cracks around the stone to keep the smell of rotting contained. That would draw scavengers. Wolves, bears and wildcats were not something that Rukhash wanted to deal with at the moment.

Patching Cadoc; gathering what useful items she could from the cave; seeing to sealing up the entrance; practical work had kept her mind occupied, but now there was nothing for her to do but wait and watch. She still had herbs to search out, but that brought her just as much anxiety as sitting, doing nothing. Leaving Cadoc alone while he was unconscious and helpless was terrifying; even if she was fairly sure that there were no large animals nearby. She would be gone for a few hours at least, and there was no telling what would happen upon him in her absence. She was not sure how long he would sleep. He had barely stirred since she dragged him out of the cave three days ago.

Picking through Cadoc's rucksack, she found the wrapped strips of dried venison. Rukhash was thankful that, at the very least, they had food handy. It was a relief that she was not also burdened with hunting. She doubted she had the focus to track down anything at the moment. She chewed the tough meat thoughtfully as she regarded the sleeping face of the Man she called her  _shaûk_.

She should not feel guilty. She had protected her companion; it's what any orc would have done in her position – even Thraangzi. If their roles had been reversed, her brother would have done the exact thing that Rukhash did, she had no doubt about that. She had always liked Thraangzi, had admired him since she was small, but he was not her  _shaûk_. Why her heart ached over the whole ordeal was beyond her.

Rukhash rubbed her eyes wearily. She had barely slept. Her dreams were a jumble of troubling images; the accusing sneer of her brother mixed with the memories of her own dead clan. Thraangzi's situation was just  _too close_ , too much like what she, herself, had suffered. Rukhash may have cured Baladnor, but that didn't mean that they were sitting down to tea any time soon. A part of her would always hate him for what he had taken from her. Cadoc's faith in her had made it easier to see past her own hate; not to forgive Baladnor, but to accept what had happened to her family. Rukhash had wanted a future with Cadoc, to live up to the person he thought she was, to do  _right_  by him.

The fact that Cadoc was a ranger, that he had hunted orcs, had always been known to her. Men hunted orcs and orcs hunted Men. That was how things had always been. Thraangzi had not been above killing man-sprogs. She had seen him drag a small body down to the larder on several occasions when she was young, and had thought nothing of it. They were the Enemy. Once less of them, young or old, was not something to worry over. Why should Cadoc have felt any different before he knew her? Somehow, Rukhash never associated him with the Men that had murdered her children. Perhaps it was because he did not seem like the type. He was so empathetic, so gentle – far more than she could ever be. She always thought he was  _better_ than that.

Not that it made any difference that he wasn't. Cadoc was no less her  _shaûk_ now that she knew the truth. She still cared about him, and she would still stay with him. After all, he had so easily forgiven the awful things she had told  _him_  about. She would get over this foolish sentimentality for Thraangzi. He had brought it upon himself, had forced her hand. Rukhash offered him a choice and he chose poorly. That was the end of it.

Wiping the wetness from her face, Rukhash managed to choke down the last of her breakfast. This sprog was making her more emotional than usual. It explained why she was so upset. That and Cadoc's tentative condition. Once he was well and they were on their way again, she would feel infinitely better.

Which meant she needed to find some  _Sharogil,_ and she might as well start looking. It would be no less sprouted come the afternoon than it would now. The bandages would boil fine on their own. Besides, there were already some gloomy clouds gathering for a summer storm, and she didn't want to get soaked through. She was already wearing her spare clothes and their laundry was still drying on the stone near the fire.

Checking Cadoc for signs that he was having difficulty breathing, and finding none, she laid a gentle kiss on his forehead before pulling on her now toeless boots. She had been using her feet so much lately, it seemed logical to augment her attire so they suited her unique anatomy. She had cut the toe at an angle, so her four smaller claws were visible, and worked a slit into the instep to allow her side claw to poke through to the joint. Her boots were soft soled, so they already allowed for a wide range of movement. If they managed to settle somewhere with harsh winters, Rukhash could always make herself another pair of closed boots, but for now, her shoes would give her a decided advantage when it came to climbing. It also allowed her to use the longer claws of her feet as weapons. She had just sharpened them the night before, using the base of a nearby oak to work her nails to razor points.

Grabbing her more conventional weapons: her bow and curved knife and serrated short sword – which she now kept sheathed against her quiver so she couldn't forget it – Rukhash headed into the dense forest, intent on getting Cadoc well as soon as possible. The quicker he was on his feet, the quicker they could make the final sprint for the mountains surrounding Mordor. What awaited them beyond that, Rukhash did not know.

What she  _did_  know was that her sprog would be born in four months time. Though she was only barely showing, the fluttering movements in her belly were beginning to become more discernible from simple gas; an affirmation of the fragile life growing inside her. So long as she and her whelp were in  _tark_  territory, they were in danger, and the sooner they were clear of Gondor, the better.

* * *

"This is somewhat troubling," Hedon said anxiously as he surveyed the blackened ground around a fire that had burned out on its own. The campsites they had come across thus far bore the telltale signs that a Ranger had been there. More precisely, there was barely any sign of them at all. Only another Ranger would know the subtle mark of a week-old fire well hid.

"We are close to the mountains," Lord Faramir observed as he came to stand alongside Hedon. "Perhaps Cadoc felt stealth was no longer necessary."

Hedon's eyes darted to his lord. To look at Faramir, one might assume he was a young man in his late twenties. Faramir's hair was dark and untroubled by grey, his usually clean shaven face now bore a week old beard from travel, yet that only seemed to add to his youthful appearance. It was odd, sometimes, to think that this man was a few years Cadoc's senior.

"Cadoc realizes, as surely as you and I do, my lord, that reaching the mountains will not make him completely safe," Hedon replied. "I doubt the men Aradhel sent to hunt him will be particularly concerned whether or not they apprehend him within Gondor's borders."

Faramir sighed. "That is very true. I would like to think Cadoc is not so foolhardy."

"Their pallet was here," Calon noted cooly as he bent over an area of flattened earth. "There are large tracks around it. Steel toed boots, far too large to be Cadoc's. I do not believe they were the ones to collect their own possessions." The greying ranger glanced up at Faramir worriedly. "These prints are a few days old."

"Then we are fortunate the weather has been fair of late." Faramir scrutinized the area around the pallet. "These larger tracks overlap the markings of a Man's boot prints, and much smaller prints I must assume are the orcess's." Faramir followed the path of the smaller tracks as they led into the forest.

"Those, definitely, belong to the orc," Hedon confirmed.

Briefly, Faramir regarded the darkening sky. It was barely past daybreak, but the gathering clouds spoke of a storm approaching. "We should try to discern what happened here before the rain washes away our evidence. Hedon, Rivalon, you follow Cadoc's path while Calon and I will follow the orc's." Faramir frowned briefly. "What was her name, Hedon?"

"Rukhash," Hedon supplied.

With a thoughtful nod, he glanced to where his wife waited with the horses and additional seven men accompanying them. "Remain here, my lady," Faramir requested. "I would not want these tracks marred any more than time has done already. If there is any trouble, do not doubt that you will know it immediately." Éowyn fixed him with a nervous smile as she shifted in her saddle. She had dressed in man's clothes to make riding easier: loose pants and a long tunic under a dark cloak. She had an odd habit of fiddling with the hem of her tunic when she was nervous, and she wrung the seam now so that her knuckles were nearly white.

Faramir could tell that this expedition put her ill at ease, but he could not abandon one of his best captains. He would discover what had happened here, and put to rest the fears surrounding Cadoc and the orc he had pledged himself to. Faramir had to admit, despite some misgivings regarding such a relationship, he was somewhat curious about this amiable orc Hedon told him about.

With Calon at his side, Faramir followed the orcess's tracks as they led away from the campsite. Based on their distance, and the angle of her feet – where he could discern it in softer earth – it was obvious that she was moving slowly, carefully.

"She was concerned about something in these woods," Calon said, as if reading Faramir's mind.

"Most likely, whatever made those larger tracks," he mumbled in reply. "Here," he said, pointing to where the grass was twisted. "She stopped here and turned sharply. Those larger prints are right behind, and the second set approached her as well. She fell here..." Faramir knelt near a depression in the ground, where the leaves and grass had been flattened. A wispy curl of dark hair was caught on a broken twig.

"She was caught off guard," Calon guessed. "There is no sign of a struggle. She must have been incapacitated quickly. Are not orc noses exceptionally keen? How did she not smell her attackers?"

"Perhaps they remained upwind," Faramir suggested. "Or perhaps they bared down on her with great speed. That second set of footprints seems to have overtaken her swiftly."

Hedon and Rivalon appeared through the brush a few meters away, their eyes trained sharply at their feet. "Cadoc was knocked unconscious here," Hedon called out as he bent down and dabbed at the ground with his finger. "There is blood, my lord, but not much. It is long dried."

"It looks as though he was surveying the perimeter," Rivalon said as he and Hedon approached Faramir and Calon. "The larger prints were circling him carefully the entire time."

"So, Cadoc takes first watch and goes to check their surroundings," Faramir surmised, putting the pieces into place. "He is subdued quietly. The orcess wakes, realizes he is missing, goes to investigate, and then she is captured as well."

"Or this was some manner of ambush for Cadoc," Rivalon suggested. "The orc may have known these others. They are obviously a larger orc breed. Trolls do not wear boots."

"I  _strongly_  doubt that is the case," Hedon argued hotly.

"I doubt it as well," Calon agreed. "The orcess was moving too tentatively to have known who or what was out here. Besides, if these orcs were her allies, why would they injure her?"

"They  _are_  orcs," Rivalon said with a raised brow.

"It is all conjecture until we find them," Faramir sighed. "Did either of you see tracks leading away from here?"

"We did," Hedon nodded. "And they were moving at a remarkable pace. Running, definitely; most likely to reach their destination before their captives awoke."

Nodding sharply, Faramir turned towards Rivalon. "Fetch the horses," he said grimly.

* * *

The orcs had fled at an impressive pace, but they did nothing to hide their passage. In a few, rockier places, Faramir had lost their trail briefly, but only because the hard ground held little sign of them so many days later. The cliffs of southeastern Gondor did not supply the best terrain for tracking quarry of any kind. In the end, it was not the orcs' tracks, but a thin line of white smoke that led them to Cadoc. Rivalon had spotted the faint wisp in the distance, just before the clouds overhead began peppering them with a light rain.

As they approached the source of the smoke, Faramir turned towards the rangers following him. "Be on guard," he warned, "but do not fire upon anything unless you are threatened. Remember, we are not here to slay the orc with Cadoc." Faramir smiled briefly. "I would ask you to keep an open mind in this."

His men favored him with a series of tentative nods. Éowyn was looking paler than usual. Her people had been harassed especially by the Uruk hai. Knowing that the orc with Cadoc was one of those creatures likely made her even more uncomfortable than she would be normally. Faramir had suggested she remain behind, but Éowyn was a stubborn woman. She would never allow him to ride off on such a quest without her, and, in all honesty, he was glad that she was here. There were aspects of this situation that she was more prepared to handle than he was.

Faramir had briefed the men with him as to the nature of Cadoc's relationship with this orc. Hedon was sure to let his lord know that Cadoc himself would not hide it, so Faramir did not see any point in hiding it from the rangers accompanying him. All of them knew Cadoc quite well, and, despite their unease at the information Faramir imparted, had volunteered to come along. However, the orcess's condition – the matter of her pregnancy – was something Faramir had shared only with Éowyn. It seemed like remarkably private information, and added a dimension to Cadoc's relationship with the she orc that was fundamentally troubling. As open minded as Faramir was want to be, the thought of Cadoc siring a half orc made even  _him_  uneasy. He did not want to think how it might effect the rangers who had served alongside the man.

The smoke led them to a shallow cave with a wide, flat slab of rock shadowing Cadoc where he lay unconscious near a low fire. Upon seeing the man, bandaged and incapacitated, Éowyn immediately halted her horse and dismounted, grabbing her medicine kit before rushing to his side. Faramir and the rangers with him followed suit. Hedon did not hesitate to kneel beside his long time friend, but Faramir and his honor guard were more prudent, surveying the immediate area. There was no sign of the orcess or the orcs that had presumably abducted her and Cadoc.

"Has she abandoned him?" Rivalon queried as he looked out over the forest stretched out at the base of the cliff.

"No," Hedon's hard baritone sounded from just inside the cave. "Their belongings are here, along with their food and clothing, which have been recently washed."

"His wounds have been just tended," Éowyn observed as she hesitantly lifted the bandage laid over Cadoc's eye. Beside her, Hedon swore softly, no doubt troubled by the gruesome injury. She grimaced at the black salve covering the disfiguring burn underneath. Lifting a small wooden bowl with a similar substance inside it, she gave the contents a tentative sniff and scowled. "I suppose this is  _orcish_  medicine," she grumbled and began to unpack her own herbal remedies from her kit.

"You can do away with those wretched, bloody rags she's boiling," Éowyn informed Hedon as she pointed to the pot of water. "I have more than enough fresh bandages." Hedon blinked at her. With one, last worried look at the ruin of his friend's eye, he hurried to obey her.

Calon stood near his cousin Donir, looking out over the landscape. "So, where is this orc?" Donir asked, turning towards his lord.

"I do not know," Faramir answered, shaking his head. "Maybe she heard our approach and has hidden herself."

"If she had heard us, she would have faced us head on, if only to protect Cadoc," Hedon announced as he poured the contents of the metal pot onto the ground outside the cave. The extent of Cadoc's wounds were horrible, but Hedon felt deeply that Rukhash was not the cause of his friend's injuries. "She had to leave him for some reason. Not food – they have enough of that – but perhaps she went to look for plants to tend his wounds. They are very low on the salve she often uses."

"Black salve," Rivalon wrinkled his nose. "We have come across that vile stuff in orc camps before. You have said that she is a healer of great skill. Why treat him with such base medicine if she is so well schooled?"

"It seems to be quite useful, generally," Hedon said with a shrug. "Perhaps it is widely used among her people because of its effectiveness." In the past few weeks, Hedon had found himself defending Rukhash more than he ever thought he would be forced to. In truth, he found her medicines as foul as Rivalon. They smelled horrible and he had no doubt they tasted worse. That did not make her any less knowledgeable when it came to healing. She had tended Cadoc's leg to great effect. A bone that broke the skin would not have healed properly if not seen to by a physician with skill, both in plants and surgery.

"She knew enough to cut away the dead skin around his eye," Éowyn commented as she rewrapped Cadoc's face with a fresh bandage. "He has a slight fever, but I can see to that."

"What I would like to know is how Cadoc has come to such a state," Faramir stated grimly. "I will assume it would be unwise to move him elsewhere."

Examining the dressing on his torso, Éowyn shook her head. "His ribs are bruised badly, my lord. Even if we were to build a litter to stretch between the horses, the terrain is too treacherous to take him any great distance without injuring him further."

"Very well," Faramir conceded. Turning, he addressed the men with him. "We will set up camp here. Calon, Míron, Rivalon; you will see to the tents before this rain starts in earnest. Two should fit here. The rest of us will break into pairs. Look for signs of the orc that traveled with Cadoc, or the orcs that brought them here. Again, I would ask that you not engage them unless you are threatened. We do not know what transpired here, and it would be wise not to jump to any conclusions."

They searched for a good portion of the dreary afternoon. After ascertaining the immediate area, and finding nothing but a dense copse of trees atop the cliff, they had spread to the forest below the cave. The only signs they found of Cadoc's orc were hours old footprints near the river and gashes in a tree that seemed as though the orc planned to chop it down with her feet. It seemed as though the mystery of Cadoc's condition and the nature of his orc would yet allude them, and Faramir wondered if Rivalon's assumption was correct; that the orcess had abandoned Cadoc to his own fate.

When they returned, Éowyn was standing stiffly just outside the cavern, wringing her hands in her long tunic. "Faramir," she gestured anxiously to the back of the cave as he hurried to her side, concerned by her fearful expression, "I believe there is something behind that stone. There is mud plugging up the cracks around it."

Rivalon had stood watch near Éowyn in her lord's absence once the tents were set. He nodded gravely as Faramir and Hedon approached him. "I had not the nerve to move it on my own," he admitted. "It is quite purposefully sealed."

Regarding the area at the rear of the cavern, Faramir was somewhat amazed they had overlooked it. While the stone was composed of a rock common to the area, its placement was too purposeful, and the mud and leaves acting as mortar was obviously recently applied.

Hedon was able to push the stone aside easily. Immediately they were accosted by the heady stench of rotting. Covering his nose and mouth, Faramir called for lanterns to be brought, and the rangers entered the cave; swords drawn and arrows notched. Faramir had no idea what to expect in that cavern, but it was certainly not the bloated corpse of an Uruk hai riddled with arrows. The whole company stared blankly at the sight of the giant orc laid out on the floor of the cave.

"What do you make of this?" Faramir asked no one in particular.

"It would appear this orc offended Rukhash particularly," Hedon said dryly. "Those are  _her_  arrows."

Further inspection revealed another large orc in a chamber dug far into the cliff – his throat a mess of jagged, uneven holes. In that same chamber they found the skeletal remains of over a dozen men. Another, smaller hollow along the length of the tunnel contained personal belongings, weapons and affects long dusted over. Several ranger's pendants bearing the tree of Gondor were found among them. They set immediately to collecting the remains of the men, cautiously stepping around the orc body rotting a dried pool of his own blood. It was dark by the time they were finished.

"These two had been here for a while," Calon commented as they rolled the stone back over the cave entrance.

"It is troubling that they managed to evade the infantry sent through this area over the past five years," Rivalon added.

"Obviously, these were the orcs that abducted Cadoc and the she orc. This Rukhash seems to have done us a service," Faramir said. "I would thank her. We would not have been able to lay the men slain here to rest otherwise, and I no longer doubt that she acted in Cadoc's defense." He regarded Hedon thoughtfully. "With Cadoc unconscious, I am afraid you are the one here that knows her best. Where do you suppose she has gone?"

Hedon shook his head. If there was one thing he could not predict, it was Rukhash's mind, but considering her devotion to Cadoc, Hedon doubted she had gone far. "It is quite possible she is near even now, watching. She is fairly stealthy when she wants to be."

"Do you think you may be able to call her out?" Faramir asked.

Sighing, Hedon looked out into the gloomy, wet landscape. "We are civil, but not exactly on the friendliest terms," Hedon admitted. "I can try, but I am not sure she will heed me."

Stepping out towards the edge of camp, Hedon addressed the forest. "Rukhash!" he called. "No one here will harm you. Come out from where you are hiding!" For long, silent minutes all that could be heard was the patter of rain on stone and leaf. Hedon could practically feel his fellow rangers gathered behind him in a hush, waiting to see this orc that had killed its own in a Man's defense.

Silence was Hedon's answer. He wasn't sure why a part of him expected otherwise.

* * *

Since the cave was the only place a fire could be lit safely, the whole company, including Lord Faramir, was gathered under its eave. Lady Éowyn remained close to Cadoc, occasionally laying her hand across his brow to check his temperature. Rivalon and Calon were speculating as to the whereabouts of the orc. Rivalon still seemed convinced that she had abandoned their comrade completely out of cowardice, while Calon shared Hedon's mind that she was nearby, perhaps even now watching them. Some of the men were dozing off after dinner. Donir and Míron had retired to one of the tents. Oreldir was playing cards with Uialon, their grey eyes serious as they gazed at their respective hands.

Belegorn was quietly staring out into the darkness, his expression thoughtful as he chewed on a piece of grass. He had said very little during the course of the trip, and Hedon wondered what his thoughts were on this whole affair. Belegorn had trained Cadoc after Tinuon refused to do so because of Cadoc's Dunlending blood. A grim but good natured man, Hedon had always liked him. When he was a younger man, Belegorn had been briefly captured by orcs along the Mordor border, and barely escaped with his life. A long, claw scar marred the right side of his face.

Noticing Hedon's eyes on him, Belegorn fixed the younger ranger with a small smile. "You've known about this orc and Cadoc for a long while, haven't you?"

Frowning, Hedon thought he sensed an accusation in that question. "Since the last snow," he admitted. "The orc was attacked, and Cadoc's behavior in the days afterward revealed his... feelings towards her." Hedon could not forget the grief in his friend as Rukhash lay injured. He wondered if she was out there, grieving, but too afraid to approach. "He was very distraught while she was recovering," Hedon added.

"I don't suppose you tried to talk some sense into him," Belegorn huffed.

"Of course I did!" Hedon hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "You trained the man. You know how stubborn he is once he sets his mind to something."

With a dubious look, Belegorn inclined his head. "I know it all too well," he affirmed, "but this is a very odd thing to set your mind to. Not just the orc, you know, the whole affair. He has decided to sever all ties with his former life and move to another country with this female. I wish he were awake so I could ask him what, in the Valar's name, he is thinking."

"Cadoc certainly does nothing half-way," Hedon groused.

Belegorn laughed long and low at that. "You have spoken well of the orcess these past weeks, but I have a feeling you do not care much for her."

Hedon sighed. "It is not that simple. I actually do not mind her so much. She is callous in her speech, and coarse in manner, but in all honesty, I think I know what Cadoc sees in her."

"Oh?" Belegorn's grey brows rose near his hairline.

"Cadoc has always been drawn to uninhibited women," Hedon explained quickly, before Belegorn assumed he was in some way  _attracted_ to an orc _._ "Ingrid was, and still is, very forward and undaunted in manner . For whatever else she may be, Rukhash is definitely  _uninhibited_." He swallowed anxiously. "She is fiercely loyal to him," Hedon continued. "She calls him her  _shaûk_ , which is apparently – for an orc – an individual for which they feel a great affection. I do not doubt her sincerity, but I do find it difficult to trust her completely. I would be lying to myself if I did not admit she has made strides to be friendly with me, and to assure me that she will not betray Cadoc, but I have seen too much of her people to wholly believe it."

"You mean when you were a boy?" Belegorn queried and Hedon nodded.

"They are a vicious race," Hedon said. "I fear for my friend to go among them. Here, it is obvious that Rukhash has defended him against other orcs and tended him after. But look what they have  _done_  to him."

Belegorn grazed his fingers lightly against the old scar on the side of his face. "Do you know how I escaped the orcs that captured me?"

"No," Hedon admitted, wondering what the older man was getting at.

"I was freed by one of their own," Belegorn informed him, smiling briefly at Hedon's reaction. "I do not blame you for being surprised, for it surprised me as well. Three years prior to my capture, I had spared a small orc along the border. He was injured and alone; hardly a threat. I could have shot him down easily, but he was obviously in pain and I found I pitied him. I told him to be off." Belegorn smiled to himself. "He seemed shocked that I would let him go, but was more than happy to take advantage of my leniency."

"That same orc was the tracker for the group that apprehended me," Belegorn continued. "He did not help me immediately, mind you. Two days passed while his superiors beat me. It was when he realized that his captain planed to prolong my death that he freed me. Do you know what he said, when he cut my bonds?" Hedon shook his head. "He told me that if his captain had slain me quickly, he would not have bothered to help, but seeing me suffer was troubling him. Since I had spared him, he felt as though he owed me."

"I am not sure what it is that orcs feel," Belegorn admitted. "That orc watched me tortured for days before his conscience had the better of him, but the fact remains that there  _was_  a conscience there. You are right to not trust them, Hedon. I would not readily trust an orc, either. I have seen too much of their aftermath to feel benignly towards their race, but I do wonder if there is more to them than battle and bloodshed."

"I wonder the same," Faramir broke in from his place just behind Hedon. He regarded Belegorn thoughtfully. "I did not know that was how you escaped them."

"A rare serendipity," Belegorn admitted. "I was, in an odd way, very lucky."

With a long sigh, Hedon rose to his feet and walked into the rain. Faramir frowned at his retreating back. "Hedon?"

"The call of nature, my lord," Hedon said with a raised hand. "I have avoided it as long as I can, but alas I must face the rain and darkness." Hedon disappeared into the tree cover next to the cave.

As he watched Hedon stalk into the gloom beyond the fire, Belegorn shook his head. He cast a rue smile towards his lord. "Such a grim young man."

Faramir chuckled quietly.

* * *

There was an odd  _aliveness_  to the darkness. Though the fire from camp was visible through the wide, oak trunks, Hedon felt uneasy and he couldn't quite place why. He had the eerie feeling that he was being watched.

He had just tied his fly back up and was ready to return to camp when something hard and small struck him in the middle of the head. "Ow!" he yelped and automatically looked up. There, through the canopy of low branches was a pair of glowing yellow eyes. Hedon blanched.

"Rukhash!" he hissed. "Were you watching me  _pee_?"

He couldn't make out her features in the darkness, but there was a slight narrowing of her eyes. "Like I ain't never seen a bloke piss," she scoffed quietly. "I see you done a nice job a helpin' us out, you stupid ox! Is this yer idea of fixin' shit? Bringin' a load of fuckin'  _tarks_  down on us?"

"Those  _tarks_  are friends of Cadoc's," Hedon argued. "And I see that  _you_  have done a fine job of seeing to his safety. Is that eye of his your idea of taking care of him?"

He did not need to see her features to read the hurt look that came over her face. "I'm sorry," Hedon quickly apologized. "That was unnecessarily harsh."

"No it wasn't," the orcess said quietly.

The sorrow in her voice was obvious, and Hedon mentally kicked himself. "What happened, Rukhash? We found those other orcs. How did they manage to sneak up on the pair of you?"

"They knew what they was doin' is all," she said grimly. "I took care of 'em."

"So I noticed," Hedon admitted.

"How's Cadoc?" the orcess asked, concerned. "He wake up yet?"

"Not yet, but Lady Éowyn feels that his condition is stable." Hedon was worried about Cadoc's prolonged unconsciousness as well. "Rukhash, no one at camp is going to harm you. You could come and see him for yourself."

An anxious look passed over her eyes and she shook her head. "No way," she argued. "Do I look like a fuckin' idiot to you?"

"Do you want me to answer that?" Hedon teased. She scowled at him – or at least, Hedon was very sure she scowled at him – and turned as though she intended to leave. "Rukhash, wait!" he called.

"Since when do you fuckin' use my  _name_?" she hissed at him, angry. "I ain't interested in none a yer tricky shit."

"I am not trying to be tricky," Hedon told her hotly. "I have never been  _tricky_  in all my life. I am attempting to be  _friendly_." The specifics of her condition came to mind, and Hedon frowned, suddenly worried. "Have you eaten at all?" he asked. "Have you been in that tree this whole time?"

"The fuck do  _you_  care either way?"

Hedon huffed with frustration. She seemed particularly argumentative tonight, but then, Hedon supposed he could not blame her for being cranky. Nándra had been a terror when she was pregnant. Compared to the wrath of his tiny wife, Rukhash's foul mood seemed almost cordial. "You know Cadoc will have my head if anything happens to you," he told her. "Do you want me to bring you something to eat?"

"I ain't coming down," she growled.

"That is fine," Hedon told her. "I will bring it here, along with your cloak. At least then you will have something to keep the rain off of you."

"Why're you bein' so nice?" the orcess asked suspiciously.

"I know you saved his life," Hedon admitted. "And I am weary of arguing with you. I have brought Lord Faramir here to hear Cadoc out so that he may persuade the King to lift the charges against him. Whether you want it or not, you  _are_  a part of that. I would ask you to come down for Cadoc's sake, to show his lord that he has made a wise choice, but I can understand your fear among so many rangers. At the very least, I would see you maintain your health."

"I'm tired of runnin', Hedon," the orcess replied wearily and briefly covered her face. Everything in her slumping posture suggested that she was worn down. Her eyes darted towards the warm fire-glow of camp and the men seated around Cadoc. "You swear they ain't gonna try and stick me?"

"I swear it," Hedon told her, a little surprised that she seemed to want to persuade  _herself_  to come down. Hedon felt a little pang of pity for her. Her anxiety had more to do with just the men, Hedon was sure of that. Judging from Cadoc's condition, the pair of them had been through quite the ordeal. Hedon wondered if Rukhash had her own injuries that needed tending. "Lord Faramir is  _interested_  in meeting you. He is curious about you."

"Well  _that_  ain't creepy at all," she said sardonically.

"He is merely interested in meeting an orc that will not tear his face off," Hedon explained. "I lied and said you were such an orc." She snickered at that, and Hedon felt a little proud of himself for lightening the mood. What a dark sense of humor she had. "No one will harm you, Rukhash. As I have already said: they are all friends to Cadoc. They have fought alongside him for years. They respect him, even in light of the relationship he has with you. They know what you mean to him. They will not try to hurt you."

"They know... everything?"

"Well," Hedon admitted with an anxious shuffle. "Only Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn know about your pregnancy, but the men already know that Cadoc has pledged himself to you."

"...And they're... arright wit' that?" she asked, skeptical.

"They think it is as odd as I do," Hedon told her, "but they respect Cadoc's judgement enough to give you a chance."

"So, I just gotta be my usual, charmin' self," she said and flashed her teeth at him.

"Hn," Hedon grunted, "I would hope you might keep the swear words to a minimum."

She sighed and glanced again towards camp. A long, tense moment passed while Rukhash silently debated with herself. Hedon thought he could practically hear the gears turning in her head as she weighed her options. In the dim light, he could tell that she was soaking wet, and he had no doubt that she was hungry by now. The air had gone cool. Hedon imagined she must be freezing. He watched his own breath evaporate with little, white puffs.

The orcess began to climb down, silent, and Hedon felt a little surge of triumph, even though he was sure her own discomfort prompted this decision as much as anything  _he_  had said. As she came to stand alongside him, Hedon was reminded how  _small_  she was. She seemed even smaller as she stood, trembling, in the rain, her hair stuck flat against her head and neck. She was carrying weapons; her bow and quiver added obvious bulk, and Hedon quietly praised her restraint. He was glad she had not thought to let her fear get the better of her, and attempt to attack the rangers from her hiding spot.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

The orcess's eyes were round and solemn. She sighed nervously. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

Hedon began to lead her towards camp, but only managed to walk a few paces before he realized Rukhash was not behind him. Turning, he found she had made it as far as the next tree before she pressed herself against the trunk, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. She was panicked. Hedon had not seen her in such a state since he had cornered her with Halbard all those months ago.

Approaching her, Hedon laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Breathe," he ordered and took a deep breath with her, exhaling slowly through his mouth. She mimicked him. "There you are," he said with a small smile as she took another, slow breath, trying to calm herself. "I swear, Rukhash, by my honor, no one will lay a hand on you. Cadoc would never forgive me if I allowed such a thing."

Nodding dumbly, Rukhash hesitantly fell into step behind him as Hedon led her to the line of trees at the edge of the firelight. Faramir was standing there already, peering anxiously into the darkness. To her credit, Rukhash did not run, but she did align herself so that Hedon shielded her completely from view.

"Hedon," Faramir greeted. "I thought you may have run into some trouble out there..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the small, shadowy figure behind the younger ranger. For a brief moment, Faramir was not sure what it was moving in the gloom behind Hedon. With the sudden realization that this timid figure was the orc, Faramir froze, as if afraid he might startle a skittish bird.

Glancing over his shoulder, Hedon gently eased Rukhash in front of him with a firm hand in the same way one might urge a reluctant child before a withering relative. It was hard to make out the specifics of her features in the gloom, but Faramir could tell that she was terrified, her bright eyes shining, fretful.

Deciding to put on a good face to put her at ease, Faramir politely inclined his head in her direction. "I will assume that you are Rukhash," he said softly. The orcess nodded. "Well," Faramir continued, "it is a pleasure, madam. I am Lord Faramir. I would hope Cadoc has at least mentioned me in passing."

Again she nodded mutely. Faramir glanced briefly at Hedon, trying to gauge if this was going well. He had never addressed an orc before today, and he wished he could see her better to discern her reaction. "You are welcome to join us," he offered, nodding towards camp. Several rangers had stood, noticing her, and Faramir waved them back. He did not want to frighten her away. "At your leisure, of course," he added. With a brief nod towards Hedon, he turned back towards camp himself, noting the mixture of confused and concerned expressions of the men that waited there.

Hedon's heavy footfalls fell into place behind him, and Faramir was relieved to note the lighter steps of the orcess as she followed as well. He smiled quietly to himself. It would appear they would have the opportunity to meet Cadoc's 'wife' after all...


	42. The Orc and the Ox

**Splint**

**Chapter Forty-two: The Orc and the Ox**

* * *

When she had returned from searching out the plants she would need to aid Cadoc and found a glut of Men gathered around the cave that sheltered him, Rukhash's heart nearly jumped into her throat. Then, she saw Hedon among them, and a part of her breathed a sigh of relief even as a small fury welled in her. Of course he would show up  _now_ ; after their ordeal with Thraangzi. Rukhash had things well in hand at this point. She did not want to deal with Hedon and his good intensions, which apparently included half the rangers in Gondor.

But she was glad to see him, because her first thought was that Dellon and his group had caught up with them. That was the last thing she needed. Rukhash knew, so long as Hedon was with him, Cadoc would be safe. They were shield brothers, after all.

That didn't mean she felt particularly inclined to engage any of these people. She watched them instead. She watched as the pale woman tended Cadoc's wounds and felt a small stab of unexpected jealousy. She should be the one looking after her  _shaûk_ , not some pasty straw-head. She watched as they examined the cave and removed the bones of the men inside and was relieved that they did not set alight the body of her brother. Orcs did not tend their dead in any particular way, but the scent of Thraangzi's charred flesh as he was burned by rangers would have been too much to bear. She watched as Hedon called out to her and did not answer. Rukhash trusted him to see to Cadoc's safety, but she did not trust him to see to  _hers_. She watched as they warmed themselves by the fire, worried over Cadoc and felt a cold longing fill her. Rukhash could be silent as a shadow, but she doubted she could evade so many rangers to sneak a moment by Cadoc's side.

Now she wasn't watching. Now, she was walking towards a group of her sworn enemy. She had forced down her fear and her doubt for a chance to stay near Cadoc, but Hedon's assurances brought her only a small relief. As she approached the mouth of the cave, half the men inside rose to their feet and every fiber of her wanted to run. Rukhash had been conditioned over the years to fear those pale green cloaks. This was not like saving a lone man on the side of her mountain. These men were hale, ready to fight at a moments notice. Her gaze darted from one set of grey eyes to another, like slate and steel and storms, their grim faces fixed on her, and Rukhash wondered if her comfort was worth risking a night among them. They may have been friends to her Cadoc, but they were no friends to orcs.

Lord Faramir and Hedon entered the cave while Rukhash stopped just short, hovering at the mouth. Inside, the ceiling was high enough for the men to stand upright, aside from Hedon, who was slightly stooped. Their blades remained sheathed at their sides, but that did not alleviate the uneasy feeling in Rukhash's gut. Including the woman, there were twelve of them in there, standing between her and Cadoc. Rukhash's eyes darted briefly to his slack face as he slept before her attention returned to the rangers surrounding him. The rain continued to patter down on her. She could feel it dripping down her back, pooling in the hollow of her boots. Her clothes were soaked through, and she shivered slightly as a light gust of cool wind blew over her.

Rukhash felt as though she could cry; though not from any particular sorrow. She was wound into knots, so anxious, she wasn't sure how to relieve the tension. She quietly scowled at herself, and firmed her mouth. She refused to break down in front of these people. They were staring at her expectantly, silently. Even Cadoc's boss seemed at a loss. For all the curiosity his face held, he looked no more inclined to draw her in than any of the men with him.

It was Hedon who finally stepped forward and extended a hand to her. "Come in out of the rain, Rukhash," he said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. Caught off guard by this uncharacteristic show of gentleness towards her, she allowed him to lead her under the eave of the cave. He surprised her further by stepping back, allowing her space, instead of forcing her into the midst of so many strangers.

As Hedon left her side and returned to his place among the others, Faramir gave him an appreciative nod. The orcess didn't bother to greet the men surrounding Cadoc. The second she was standing alone, Rukhash sank to the ground, warily eyeing the lot of them. She removed her quiver and bow from where they were slung, but kept them close; just to her right. No one seemed inclined to forcibly seize them from her, and Faramir did not intend to order them to do so. At the moment, her intensions seemed benign, and she was so high strung, he imagined she would lash out at such an attempt.

Exchanging a look with his wife, he realized Éowyn seemed as hesitant and unsure as he felt. Faramir quietly cleared his throat. "I suppose introductions are in order," he said finally, glancing about. Faramir gestured towards the pair of greying rangers at his right. "This is Rivalon and Calon, Uialon and Oreldir are behind them, this is Cadoc's old mentor, Belegorn." He quietly noted the orcess's uneasy appraisal of the old ranger's scar, but pressed on. "Donir and Míron are the youngest of our group, next to Cadoc are Celeblas, Salaben and Tulustor. Hedon, of course, you know already and this is my wife, Lady Éowyn. She has been seeing to Cadoc's health in your absence." The orcess gave Éowyn a curious look before drawing her knees up to her chest.

She nodded sharply towards all of them. "Hullo," she said quietly.

Like most orcs he had heard speak, her voice had a flat, gravely quality that made it difficult to discern her tenor from that of a male's. In fact, now seeing her in better light, Faramir realized he might have had difficulty ascertaining her gender if he had not known it already. Her tunic was not fitted, falling baggy on her frame. Under different circumstances, he might have easily overlooked the feminine quality of her shape in light of her slightly too long arms and rodent-like feet. Orcs were their own people, with their own look about them. While Cadoc's orc did not bear the ghastly, often disfiguring, scars he had seen on some orc warriors, she possessed the same, animalistic quality to her features that marked her people. For some reason that he now could not place, Faramir had expected her to look more womanlike, with a countenance closer to what he had seen in some half orcs.

Though female, Rukhash was definitely no Woman. As orcs went, she was not horrible to look upon, but she was not attractive by any stretch. Faramir was curious about her, and interested in what made her gentler than the bulk of her folk. He assumed she must posses some comely aspect of personality to have endeared herself to Cadoc, but as Faramir stared into her bright, yellow eyes he wondered what had possessed Cadoc; that he would lay with such an alien creature. He caught himself before his own prejudice had the better of him. Reigning in his unease, Faramir decided not to draw any unfounded conclusions against the orcess  _or_  Cadoc. It was not his place to judge another man's heart.

Hedon appeared suddenly at his side. "Perhaps it would be best if everyone took a seat, my lord," he said, making sure his words were for Faramir's ears alone. Glancing towards the massive young man, Faramir saw he held a small bowl of what remained of supper and had tucked a thin blanket into the crook of his arm.

He had been so engrossed in his own thoughts, Faramir hadn't noticed Hedon milling about in the back of the cave, but was now grateful for the man's forethought. He realized the other rangers – and Éowyn as well – were completely fixated on the orcess at the entrance, while Rukhash seemed to be trying to melt into the stone wall behind her, tucking herself into the smallest possible space she could.

Catching the attention of the others, Faramir silently motioned for them to ease off, and they began to sit, one by one, their focus still trained on Rukhash. The orcess seemed completely cowed. Faramir was relieved Hedon seemed willing to be an ambassador of sorts. He had spent more time in her presence, and, despite the unease he declared earlier, seemed undoubtedly more comfortable around the orc. For all the questions he had aimed to ask her, Faramir now found himself more caught up in the novelty of her presence. He had never been so close to an unbound orc without concern for his own person. Besides, she resembled a drowned rat at the moment. It would most likely make a conversation easier if she was more comfortable.

Hedon approached and crouched in front of her, shielding Rukhash from the scrutiny of his comrades with his great size. A murmur of quiet comments, mostly in Sindarin, started behind him, but he kept his attention squarely on the orcess. She seemed to relax slightly now that she was not in direct sight of the men sharing this cave with her. Hedon handed off the blanket, which she snapped open and wrapped around her shoulders in one brisk movement, covering her head and shadowing her face in the process. She took the bowl from him. It contained a thin porridge with slices of smoked pork and boiled roots. Hedon expected her to dig into her meal with usual gusto, but the bowl remained in her lap as she stared dully at the contents.

"You should give it a try," Hedon said softly. "Uialon is fairly descent at throwing a meal together."

"Think I'm gonna be sick," she whispered.

"Rukhash," Hedon sighed, "I have not brought these people here to do you injury. I would ask you to  _try_  to be affable. Lord Faramir has many questions for you... and his decision regarding Cadoc will be based heavily on your answers."

A horrified look crossed her face. "What's he gonna do... if he don't like my answers?"

Startled, he gaped a moment, unsure of how to answer her. Hedon really didn't know what Lord Faramir would do if he decided Rukhash was some manner of threat, but he was fairly certain that would not be the case. Seeing the terror in her eyes, Hedon recalled how nervous and uncomfortable she was when she first met Edda. He should not be surprised that she would be frightened now, without Cadoc at her side and with him as the only recognizable face among so many possible enemies. He suddenly realized how much he was asking of her in this situation. What she was made him somewhat uncomfortable, and she reminded him of a time in his life that he would rather forget, but Hedon did not hate Rukhash. Though Cadoc had been his primary worry, it had not been his goal to bring undue stress upon her, especially considering she carried his friend's child. It couldn't possibly be good for the baby, for her to be so upset.

Reigning in his concern for Cadoc and the outcome of this meeting, Hedon chose his next words in hopes that they would bring  _her_  some comfort. "He will do  _nothing_  to you," Hedon whispered. "None of them will.  _I_  will not allow it. You have my word on that." He was surprised to find that he meant it. Hedon would make sure no harm would come to her while Cadoc remained unconscious. If their positions were reversed, and it was Nándra in Rukhash's place, Hedon knew that he would have been able to count on Cadoc to see to her safety. While he imagined some of his fellows might bristle at his declaration, he doubted the others could hear him above the pattering rain outside and the crackle of the fire. Anyway, they seemed engrossed in their own, speculative conversations behind him. "Besides," Hedon added, lightening his tone, "you are not without your ability to be congenial. You need only be your 'usual, charming self'."

She fixed him with a small, watery smile. "I'll just lay off them swear words, then," she whispered hoarsely.

"That might help," he agreed.

Faramir was somewhat surprised to see Hedon take a seat between the orcess and the rest of the men, but whatever they had quietly discussed amongst themselves seemed to put her more at ease. There was resigned quality to the way her eyes settled on them this time, before her gaze finally rested on Cadoc.

"He move at all why I was gone?" she asked, fixing an inquisitive look on Éowyn.

"No," she replied with a furtive glance in Faramir's direction. "I'm afraid not."

"You seem relatively unharmed," Rivalon observed from his place at Calon's side. He leveled a cool eye on the orcess. "I find that rather curious, considering the condition Cadoc is in."

Faramir had been curious about that as well, but he was attempting to approach things with slightly more tact. He supposed Rivalon's suspicions could not be avoided. The man had grown up in Henneth Annûn, and had spent the whole of his life fighting orc soldiers. Why Rivalon had agreed to this mission, and not stayed behind with others of his honor guard who were equally uncomfortable with the pretense behind it, still eluded Faramir; though his supposed Calon's influence had something to do with it. Still, this situation called for a little more delicacy.

Before Faramir could reprimand Rivalon for speaking out of turn, the orcess surprised him by answering. "They planned on keepin' me around," she said evenly. "Guess they thought I might take it personal if they wailed on me too."

"Why would they want to keep you on with them?" Míron queried.

An uneasy look passed over the orcess's features before she schooled her face into a neutral expression. "Dunno," she replied. "What you think two lads would want with a girl on hand?" She set her attention on the bowl in her lap and quickly shoveled a spoonful into her mouth. That statement filled Faramir with a decided unease, and from the expressions of the men around him, they shared that discomfort.

"Did you not mention that Cadoc and you are pledged to one another?" Belegorn asked dryly.

The orcess leveled a fierce glare at him. "'Course I did!"

"Did those orcs not think, in light of such a relationship, that you would still take offense if they injured Cadoc?" Uialon reasoned. "Or do orcs not usually feel strongly for their partners?"

"I would like to know how you were able to overpower two large uruks," Calon added. "There does not seem to be much to you."

"It seems quite a misstep on their part, that they did not think to secure you," Donir observed.

"Peace!" Faramir ordered, noting the overwhelmed expression on the orcess's face. She had become more and more agitated as the questions and comments mounted. They would never hear the whole story if they bombarded her with inquiries all at once.

"Rukhash," Faramir addressed her gently, "I will admit I would also like to know what transpired here before we arrived. We have drawn conclusions based on what we have found in that cavern, but I would like to hear  _your_  account of events." He would have preferred to wait until she had eaten and calmed down a little more, but the sooner they knew the truth of things, the sooner the men would let her be. There had been too many theories floating about in her absence to sate anyone's curiosity.

The orcess fixed her gaze squarely on her lap, tucking her ears against her skull. "I begged Thraangzi ta let us go," she said quietly. Faramir was tempted to ask which of those orcs was Thraangzi, but held his tongue. He would wait until her tale was done to ask questions.

"He wouldn't listen to it," she continued. "Had his lackey tie me up in the back. Dunno why he bothered with 'at. Guess he thought I'd be less pissed if I didn't see what he was doin' ta Cadoc." She frowned miserably. "I were just lucky the bloke didn't know his knots. I wriggled outta 'em easy when he stepped out fer a bit. Grabbed a bone from the pile in 'ere an waited fer 'im ta come back. Stupid bloke didn't even think ta look fer me up on 'at ceilin'."

"You seen at little hollow in the back?" she asked, glancing at Faramir. He nodded. "Found my bow and arrows there. You know, stashed with all the other shi- stuff in 'ere. Thraangzi was too busy... doin' what 'e was doin' ta see me come outta the tunnel. I took my shot an' 'at was the end a it. Dragged Cadoc out 'ere so's he wouldn't be stuck next ta 'at stink while I patched 'im. That were three days back, thereabouts. He ain't moved much since."

Faramir regarded her for a long moment. Her story lined up well with what they had discovered in that cave, but there was one point that bothered him. "How did you know this... Thraangzi?"

A startled look came over the orcess's face. "What?"

"He is the only one of that pair that you mentioned by name," Faramir explained. "So I must assume that you were familiar with him."

She opened her mouth, but no words seemed forthcoming. The orcess dropped her gaze back down to her lap. Her response was so quiet, Faramir nearly missed it. "He were... my brother."

There was a moment of blinking silence as Faramir and his company processed that information. "Your brother..." he echoed, feeling and inkling of suspicion nag at him. "Did you know he was here?"

"What?" Rukhash's head snapped up. "No!" she said hotly. "I ain't seen him since we was sorted out in Mordor."

Faramir frowned slightly. "What do you mean 'sorted out'?"

"After Isengard flooded," she explained. "When we was called ta Mordor. They sent him ta the barracks an I went down to the Pits. After 'e Fall, I come across his old captain what told me he died on Pelennor Field. I thought he was dead!"

"Your brother would not hear your plea to spare Cadoc?" Hedon asked, an aghast look on his face. "Did he... not approve of it?"

"Nothin like 'at," she said quietly. "Him an' Cadoc had some history. Said 'at Cadoc killed his sprogs an' 'is shaû- partner. I ain't sure how that all went down." Her gaze fell on Cadoc's sleeping face. "He ain't been able ta tell me... what happened."

"You slew your brother to save Cadoc," Faramir stated quietly. He was not sure what orcs felt for their kin, but as he watched the orcess's eyes brim with water, he realized it could not have been too far what any sister would feel for her brother.

"He didn't give me no choice," she said, and it sounded like a plea. "He was gonna kill Cadoc."

She was completely distressed, on the verge of crying, and Faramir could not blame her. "Peace, Rukhash," he said, holding up his hand. "I understand that you had no other option... and I am grieved that your brother forced such action from you."

With a miserable nod, her attention was once again on the bowl of porridge in her lap. She did not seem particularly inclined to eat any of it. If her tale was a lie, then it was a clever one, and she a well accomplished actress; but if it was a lie, then Cadoc would easily dismiss it when he woke. At the moment, Faramir was strongly inclined to believe her. Whatever doubts might have lingered in his mind about her dissipated; more so than if it had been a random orc that she had slain. She had shown Cadoc great devotion, to have made such a difficult choice in his favor.

Noting the mixture of pity and sadness on the faces of the men with him – even Éowyn had a troubled look to her – Faramir decided that there had been enough inquiries for one night. Rukhash had been through enough emotional strain. Faramir decided to save what remained of his curiosity for the morning.

"Rivalon, Calon, you will take first watch," Faramir announced. Donir and Míron may have had a brief rest before this ordeal, but Faramir wanted more seasoned rangers on lookout tonight. "Belegorn and Hedon will take second watch," he added. "I think it is time that the rest of us retire for the evening. It is quite late."

"I would like to remain here, to keep an eye on Cadoc" Éowyn argued.

"I can watch 'im," the orcess interrupted in a small voice. "I  _been_  watching 'im..." She trailed off at the fierce look Éowyn fixed on her.

"Let her look after him, Éowyn," Faramir suggested. "She has done a fair job of it so far, you said so yourself, and you need your rest. You have been worrying over him since we arrived."

Though her lip firmed defiantly, his wife quietly acquiesced. She followed the other men retiring to the tents just outside and Faramir moved to join her, but was stopped briefly by Hedon. "I would remain here, my lord," he said, glancing to where Rukhash had situated herself near Cadoc. "So I am close, if she requires assistance."

Faramir was a little bemused that Hedon seemed to take it upon himself to be the orcess's personal guard. "Very well," he relented, "but you will still have second watch."

"Sir," Hedon nodded sharply and settled near Rukhash. Faramir quietly shook his head and went to take his place by his wife.

* * *

The rain had trickled to a stop overnight, leaving the sky clear and the temperature cooler in the high elevation. Deeper in the forest the early rising birds began to twitter noisily.

He had been letting his mind wander for the past hour or so, but the sound of movement within the cavern brought Belegorn to attention. The orcess was awake and milling about. Her shuffling and grunting and snuffing went on for several dozen minutes before Belegorn gave into his curiosity and peered inside. She was checking on Cadoc, laying her hand across his brow and sniffing at him delicately. She must have been satisfied with what she smelled, because she sat back on her heels with a relieved sigh. Leaning over him, she laid a light kiss on Cadoc's brow and Belegorn immediately trained his eyes back towards the mountain peaks in the distance. He was here to keep watch, not spy on the pair of them.

It was still an odd thought, Cadoc and the orc as a couple, but the story Rukhash had told the night before put many of his worries to rest. He wondered if all of her race was prone to such unwavering loyalty towards their partners, or if Cadoc's orc was an odd exception with regard to the depth of her feelings. Whatever the case, Belegorn was still interested to hear Cadoc's side of things. Her devotion to him was impressive, but Rukhash was still rough on the eyes. He was curious to know what had pushed their relationship past friendship and into this more intimate dimension.

Hedon snored quietly at the entrance to the cave and Belegorn debated waking him. The sky was beginning to lighten at the horizon, and the others would be up soon. He had a long night, considering the emotional state of his charge. Belegorn decided to give the younger ranger a few more minutes.

The orc was suddenly at his side, her yellow eyes glowing in the pre morning gloom, and the veteran ranger nearly jumped in surprise. He had not heard her approach his position. Belegorn quietly wondered if his skills were slipping. He regarded the orcess and she him for a long minute.

"Mornin'," she greeted with an easy, little nod.

"Good morning," he returned.

The orcess fixed him with a small smile. She seemed more forthcoming than the night prior, and Belegorn wondered at that a little. Perhaps a good night sleep had done her good. Her eyes seemed far less puffy and drawn than they did. Belegorn noticed she was dressed for an outing, her bow and quiver slung over her shoulder. She glanced down at Hedon where he slept. "Shouldn't he be keepin' watch with ya?" she said with a raised brow.

"Hedon watched over you as you slept for a better portion of the night," Belegorn informed her. "He stayed awake through Rivalon and Calon's watch. No doubt, Rivalon's callous comments caused him some concern for your well being."

A confused look crossed her features. "Which one were Rivalon?"

Belegorn huffed. "The older ranger that was the first to question you last night," he said. She frowned, obviously not sure who he was referring to. "He was one of the men on first watch," Belegorn clarified.

"Oh,  _him_ ," she sniffed. "He sure had a starin' problem."

"He has his reasons for his mistrust," Belegorn replied.

"Don't  _everyone_ ," she grumbled and rolled her eyes. He wondered if she would be so dismissive if she knew the kind of childhood the lad had. Rivalon had known orcs only as invaders his whole life. A long time resident of Henneth Annûn himself, Belegorn knew how that could color an opinion over time.

A thoughtful look came over her as she contemplated the scar that ran the length of his face. Though it may have been his own unfamiliarity with orcish features in any other context except battle, he found her expression was indiscernible, and Belegorn was curious as to what she was thinking. "Are you wondering where it came from?" he asked.

The orcess shook her head. "Nope," she said. "It's pretty obvious where it come from. I were wonderin' if yer holdin' a grudge about it."

Contemplating that for a moment, he decided, "I am not."

"Fair enough," she said with a shrug. Her attention was back on the young man dozing at the mouth of the cave. She strolled up to Hedon and poked him in the belly with the end of her bow. "Oi, you," she barked. "Quit lazin' off."

Aghast that she would be so thoughtless, Belegorn could understand why Hedon called her coarse. Considering the young man had been so mindful of her the night before, she might show him a little pity. "Let him sleep," Belegorn chastised. The orcess paid him no mind and poked Hedon again.

Startling, Hedon blinked wearily awake, looking up at the orc standing over him. "What?" he snapped.

"You owe me a buck," she informed him.

"What?"

"You owe me a buck," she repeated, wrinkling her freckled nose. "There's deer all over the place 'round here, an' if I have to eat another slab a salted, dried  _somethin'_  floatin' in oats or wheat or whatever, I'm gonna chuck."

"I do not see how that is  _my_  problem," Hedon said cooly.

"Aw,  _common_ ," she whined at him, stamping her foot like a petulant child. "I can't carry somethin' that big back here on my own. I ain't... you know... in the shape fer it."

"It is not even dawn yet," he argued, glaring balefully at the dark blue sky, as if it were to blame for his current situation.

"That's 'e best time ta go!" she said, throwing her hands in the air. "Quit bein' a stupid ox an come give a girl a hand with breakfast."

His face screwed up angrily, and Hedon nearly lost his temper with her. " _Orc..._ " he growled a warning and shut his eyes in an attempt to reign himself in. She was being so childish and he had barely slept, but that was not wholly her fault. It was his own paranoia that had kept him awake. In truth, he should not be sleeping at all right now. He rubbed his face wearily before glancing into the cave where Cadoc slept. "Did you check on him? Is he well?"

A fierce look crossed her. "Don't be an idiot," the orcess grumbled. "'Course I checked on 'im. It were the first thing I done. He ain't much different 'en he were last night. Even switched out the cloths under 'im already."

"The... what?"

Rukhash gave him a sardonic look. "You know," she hissed, "fer when he passes water."

Hedon blinked. "Oh..."

She glanced into the gloom of the cave as well, most likely seeing more than Hedon could. A thoughtful frown marred her features. "I'll wash 'em later, when the stream's warmer," she said quietly before turning back to him with a sharp glare. "So, quit bein' a lazy ox. Let's go kill somethin'." She crouched in front of him, softening her scowl to a plaintive, woebegone look. Her eyes went impossibly round and shimmering.

"Gracious Valar," Hedon swore. "What is  _that_  face about?"

Her expression did not change. If anything, Hedon could swear her eyes went even rounder. "It's my 'please' face," she explained in a tiny voice. " _Please_ , Hedon...  _please_  come huntin' with me."

"Does that work on Cadoc?" Hedon asked, unmoved by her begging.

"Every time," she chirped and grinned a clever grin.

"Well, it isn't working on  _me_."

She frowned slightly. "All them others is gonna be up soon," she told him seriously. "I'd like ta go on a run afore I face 'em; an' if I'm goin' on a run, 'en I might as well do somethin' useful on it; and if I'm doin' somethin' useful, it might as well be useful ta everyone. It'd make a good impression, don't ya think?"

"And you want  _me_  to go with you?" he asked, somewhat perplexed.

"Why  _not_  you?" she said with a little pout.

He could think of a million reasons. Hedon glanced towards Belegorn. He was watching their exchange with an amused expression, and Hedon was somewhat annoyed the older man seemed to find Rukhash's nudging so funny. Let her wake  _him_  up after only a few hours of sleep. "I will let them know where you have gone," the old ranger said affably. "If you want to go."

Rukhash's 'please face' was back in all of it's beseeching glory. She would most likely harangue him until he gave in, stubborn creature. With a long suffering sigh, Hedon rose to his feet. "Let me get my bow," he groused.

Clapping her hands, Rukhash gave a little, squealing cheer.

* * *

There was a part of him that wondered why the orcess felt the need to drag him into the wood at this early hour. A few months ago, he would have had the worst thought in mind, but her intensions were obviously benign. She seemed very enthusiastic about catching something. Hedon supposed his protectiveness towards her the night before had warmed Rukhash to him, which was why she invited him out with her that morning, even if she had been more pushy than congenial about it. Even as he had that thought, he recalled that she had reached out to him a few times before, and he was simply not willing to hear her.

The orcess sniffed around the base of another tree, and cheerfully motioned him to follow. Hedon was glad she was taking the lead, because his eyes had barely adjusted to the dim light of early morning. Hunting with Rukhash was like hunting with a bloodhound that could speak. They had come across several sets of deer tracks downriver from the waterfall at the base of the cliff. Hedon could tell a pair of bucks had battled there, but it was Rukhash who picked out the injured combatant.

"He'll be easier ta run down," she reasoned and Hedon could not argue. From there it was a simple matter of tracking him. The rain from the night before muffled their trek through the undergrowth, which made stealth far easier. Hedon had expected this to be a fruitless hunt, but as they tracked their quarry, and his hunting partner became more animated, sure they were catching up to their target, he had a good feeling that they would be returning with something to show for their efforts.

Every time he glanced in her direction, Rukhash was sniffing lightly at the air, her ears swiveling in all directions, listening. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hedon found it fascinating to watch her. He doubted many men had hunted alongside an orc, and he was quietly impressed with her inherent ability. She moved with a hunter's grace, her steps even quieter than his own. Hedon did not know why he had expected her to goof off more. Maybe it was because of her antics that morning. Still, he should have expected she would be skilled at this. She had lived alone for years, and she would not have survived so long if she was in the habit of lumbering through the woods like a drunken troll.

They hiked for several miles into the dense forest. The sun had just risen over the mountains, lightening the landscape, and Hedon was relieved his range of sight would be lengthened before they came upon the buck. He yawned quietly. If only they didn't have to leave so, damnably  _early_.

Rukhash suddenly grasped his forearm, halting him. She crouched down, her fierce eyes trained ahead. "You see 'im?" she whispered, excited.

Following her line of sight, Hedon caught the flash of dappled sunlight along the length of a deer's auburn coat. The buck had a slight limp, a minor injury he most likely incurred from his earlier quarrel. "I see him," Hedon replied as he silently slid an arrow from his quiver.

They drew their bows in unison. Nearly one hundred yards away, through the staggered trees and brush, the buck lifted his head and stared in their direction, as if trying to decipher what it was, exactly, he was looking at. "Now," Rukhash hissed and they loosed their arrows. They both struck the buck in the upper torso. He bellowed briefly, reared up and immediately collapsed to the ground.

"Ha!" Rukhash crowed and bounded to where the deer fell. Hedon followed her at a more leisurely pace. She practically skipped towards the stag and Hedon shook his head silently, not sure if he found her enthusiasm amusing or troubling.

The deer had been struck in the throat and chest, and was already dead when they came upon him. Bending and drawing her curved knife in one, smooth motion, she knelt by the deer's side, singing a little tune in her horrible tongue as she slit the knife up the length of it's abdomen.

_Na ukhat thauk, rad thauk prosat!  
_ _Luguth-tuk zorru skaatub jashat!_

"Why am I not surprised that gutting an animal cheers you up?" Hedon said.

"What're you on about?" she snuffed at him. "That were a good hunt! Real quick like, an' here we are with a fine breakfast." She slid her arm guards off and dug into the hole in the beast's belly. "I call the liver!"

"You are not going to eat it  _here_ , are you?" he asked, somewhat disturbed. Though he was feeling more comfortable around her lately than he ever remembered being, Hedon had no desire to see her tear into raw organs.

" _No_ ," she said guiltily, her eyes darting. "Just... claimin' it 'fore anyone else does."

Shaking his head reprovingly, Hedon unrolled the leather tarp they brought with them and slowly removed his gloves. Rukhash was humming as she pulled the guts out of the deer, and Hedon was not sure what to make of her at the moment. It had been nagging at him all morning. She seemed oddly cheerful, in light of the horrible events of the past few days, and the obvious stress she had been under.

"You don't need these tubes fer nothin do ya?" she asked absently, wriggling a length of thin, pink intestine in the air. "Don't care for this bit myself, but I know some folks like it boiled..."

"Are you all right?" Hedon asked suddenly.

She blinked at him. "Whaddya mean?" she said, cocking her head.

"You were very... troubled last night," Hedon replied. "I was honestly worried for you. I suppose I did not expect to see you so... upbeat... this morning." It was the best way he could explain it, and he had not meant it as an accusation. The shift in her mood was, simply, a little sudden; something that Hedon doubted was only a matter of her pregnancy making her exceptionally emotional.

She frowned at him. "How should I be actin' then?" she snapped. "Should I be curled in a ball, cryin' all over the place like a worthless shit?"

"I suppose that would not be terribly productive," Hedon sighed, holding up his hand in redress. He had not wanted to anger her, but he did find himself oddly concerned about her. What she had been forced to do was horrifying, and Hedon was worried for her, not just for Cadoc's sake, but for hers. As orcs went, Rukhash was really not so terrible. He actually was starting to like her a little, if he was completely honest with himself. When she wasn't cursing up a storm or throwing a fit, she could be fairly enjoyable to be around.

Rukhash stared down at her bloodied hands, swallowing anxiously. Her expression took on the same, fretful look of the night before. "Just fer a minute, I just don't wanna think about it," she whispered. "I'm so mad at 'im, Hedon."

Hedon frowned at that. "Cadoc or your brother?" he asked quietly.

" _Both_ ," she hissed. "I'm mad at both of 'em. I'm mad at Thraangzi fer bein' a stubborn ass 'at won't listen ta reason, an' I'm mad at Cadoc 'cause... 'cause I didn't think he could  _do_  somethin' like 'at. Not him. I should've fig'red he  _could_ , but I just didn't think he  _would_. I... I thought he were better than it." Her bottom lip began to tremble, and Hedon was sorry he brought it up. This was obviously, understandably, something she did not want to dwell on.

"Rukhash," Hedon said gently, "I am not, exactly, sure what the circumstances were surrounding the incident involving Thraangzi and Cadoc, but I can assure you that Cadoc has never raised his sword out of amusement or malice. He finds no joy in killing. He has spent his life defending his homeland. Whether that makes what he did  _better_ or justified, I cannot say, but I do feel that there is a difference when it comes to one's motive behind killing."

"Thraangzi were a good brother to me," she said emphatically. "He saved me from the flood. He always played with me when most a my other older brothers were blowin' me off. He never made fun a my feet." Rukhash looked at Hedon miserably. "Everyone  _always_ made fun of my goblin feet."

Hedon glanced briefly at her naked, clawed toes before looking back to her tear streaked face. "I didn't wanna do it, Hedon," she croaked. "I didn't wanna have ta kill 'im, but he just couldn't let go a it, an' I can't blame 'im fer it! Cadoc done the same thing ta him 'at Baladnor done ta me. But I couldn't do no different. I couldn't let 'im kill Cadoc. I feel like I failed 'im; like I got a choice an' he didn't." Her breath hitched of it's own accord, and Rukhash screwed up her face as she attempted to reign in her emotion.

Taking a deep breath, Hedon searched for something to say. He had never been very good at comforting people. "I would be a liar if I did not say that I am  _personally_  happy that you made the choice that you did," he admitted. "Cadoc is a good person, and he cares very deeply for you. Knowing you has put many things into a different light for him, regarding your people."

"And I know it is the same for you," Hedon continued. "I know that Baladnor would have never been cured if not for Cadoc's influence on you. Am I wrong to assume that?" Rukhash shook her head. "Perhaps in time, with the proper influences, it may have been the same for your brother, and he may have been able to see past his rage, but you cannot consider yourself wholly responsible for changing him or not changing him. He neither gave you the chance or the time to do so."

"I can't be mad at 'im fer bein' pissed Hedon," she said miserably. "I really can't. Whatever yer folk might've thought of 'im, I know 'e musta been a good dad, to care so much about his lads. An' it takes a certain type, ta call someone yer  _shaûk_. That don't come easy fer my folk, givin' up so much a yerself fer someone else. I know I done what I had ta, Hedon, I'da never let anything happen ta Cadoc, cause he's  _my shaûk_ , an' I ain't losin' another one... but it just...  _hurts_."

"I know," Hedon said quietly, clasping her shoulder. "But you cannot blame yourself for your brother's actions, Rukhash. Thraangzi's death and Cadoc's condition are not  _your_  fault. It is as you said, you had no choice."

"I killed my fuckin'  _brother_ , Hedon." she hiccuped. "It'd be different if he were one a the bunch 'at I didn't like – 'en he'd just be some bleedin' orc, buggerin' me an' Cadoc – but he were one a my favorites. I were real fond a 'im when I was small, and 'e were always real fond a me. He were good ta me when I was little."

"It was a miserable position you were put in, Rukhash." Hedon told her. "I am hesitant to condemn your brother, since I do not know him, but it  _was_  cruel of him to do this to you. He put his own vengeance before your feelings and your safety. For whatever he felt towards Cadoc, even if it was completely justified, it was not fair for him to force his younger sister into such a horrible confrontation. He may have cared for you, but what good is that care if he could do something like this to you?"

Hedon took a shuddering breath. "My father, for as awful a man as he was, I admired him when I was a boy... He always kept me by his side, but that it put me in many situations that were very frightening and very dangerous. Looking back now, I can see how selfish he was to force me into the position that he did."

"Selfish people give you very few choices," he said grimly. "I do not blame you for being angry with your brother..." Hedon considered Cadoc's own role in things and added, "And I suppose I can understand why you are mad at Cadoc as well, for the part he played, but certainly he has more than suffered for whatever crime he has committed."

"I wish he'd wake up," Rukhash whispered. She had calmed considerably, but silent tears sill rolled down her dark cheeks. Pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket, Hedon handed it to her so she could wipe her face.

"I wish he would wake up as well," Hedon admitted.

She regarded him quietly. "You ever miss 'im, yer dad? Ain't you ever mad 'at things went the way they did?"

"Sometimes," Hedon admitted, "but he brought such consequences upon himself. He was a cruel man to anyone aside from me, and ruthless, and I was honored that I was one of the few on his good side." Hedon paused, remembering darker times. "I  _hated_  the rangers that arrested him," he whispered. "The man I am now cannot abide the man he was, but at the time, all I knew was that I was parted from him. He loved me in his own, dark way, I suppose, but he was not a good person."

"You don't think, maybe he coulda been somethin' different?" she asked.

"Perhaps," Hedon said. "or perhaps not. It is often hard for someone who has lived in such violence their whole lives to see things in a new light." He contemplated the orcess in front of him and amended, "Not impossible, mind you, but very, very difficult."

With a shuddering sigh, she rallied a brighter expression. "We should get back," she said with a watery grin. "They're gonna think I'm out here strippin' yer bones 'r somethin'."

Realizing she wanted to change the subject, Hedon nodded quietly. "I suppose you're right," he said. "You know," he continued with a small smile, "Rivalon will be very disappointed that you did not prove him correct in his assumptions about you."

Rolling her eyes, Rukhash smirked at him knowingly. "I got a way a doin' that," she said.

"So you do," he acknowledged.

Rolling to her feet, she grabbed the deer by the ankles started to drag it towards the tarp. Hedon took the other set of hooves, and in short order, they had it rolled up and hefted on his back. As they started towards camp, Rukhash gave him a light thump on the arm.

"Oi, ox, thanks fer comin' huntin' with me," she said quietly.

"Any time, orc."

* * *

**Translations**

_Na ukhat thauk, rad thauk prosat!  
_ _Luguth-tuk zorru skaatub jashat!_

(SV) In goes the knife, now it cuts!  
Through the stomach, out come the guts!


	43. Adumbrate

**Splint**

**Chapter Forty-three: Adumbrate**

**_AN:_ ** _Revisions have been made to this chapter since it's original upload._

* * *

One by one the men started to wake, shuffling groggily from the tents staked outside the cavern; grunting, coughing and rubbing their tired eyes. Belegorn smiled quietly to himself at the matching expression of weariness on the faces of his comrades. Belegorn was no different. He idly rubbed the knot in his sore shoulders.

Sleeping outdoors seemed to take a greater toll with age, and most of the rangers in Faramir's honor guard were decades into their tenure. Most of these men had given up sleeping on the road nearly half a decade prior, when dense patrols became no longer necessary, and many of them joined the honor guard, which was stationed mainly in Ithilien proper.

He was not sure if it was her comparative youth or inherent toughness, but Lady Éowyn was the freshest of all of them. She brusquely splashed her face with clean water drawn the night before and went immediately to Cadoc's side. Sparing Belegorn the briefest of glances, she asked, "Where has the orcess gone?"

"She left earlier with Hedon," Belegorn supplied. "They have gone to procure us some breakfast."

A vexed look passed over Éowyn's pale features. "Did she bother to see to her patient? Has there been any change in his condition?"

"I believe she examined him before she left," Belegorn told her. "She did not mention any change and I have seen none since I have been here with him."

Nodding, Éowyn waved Belegorn off. Leaving his liege's lady to her work, he headed outside of the cave. Belegorn had been somewhat troubled by the utter stillness of his former pupil. He had seen men sleep in such a state before, and certainly Cadoc's injuries more than warranted a rest, but Belegorn still worried for his welfare. His charges over the years were, in many ways, like second sons to him. First sons, even, considering his own boys were long buried. He would have preferred the lad awake and aware by now; able to shed some light over the bizarre events that surrounded him.

Outside, Faramir was ushering orders, sending men to tend the horses and check the surrounding area. Upon seeing Belegorn alone, he inquired as to Hedon and the orcess's whereabouts. Faramir seemed somewhat surprised by Belegorn's reply.

"Hunting?" the prince repeated, not hiding his astonishment. "We have more than enough supplies to sustain us."

The old ranger shrugged lightly. "The orcess seemed anxious. I think she intended to relieve some of her stress. She also mentioned that she felt it would make a good impression, to supply us with a fresher meal."

"Indeed?" Faramir said, his brow thoughtful.

Rivalon, who had been standing within earshot, splashing his face in an attempt to recover from hours of lost sleep, chose that moment to enter the conversation. "And she took  _Hedon_  with her?" he inquired darkly before turning towards his lord. "Should we not check on him? How do we not know that she has slipped his company and made an escape?"

Faramir sighed. The sun had barely warmed the chill in the air and he was not in the mood to deal with Rivalon's brooding. "There is nothing for her to 'escape' from," he argued. His attention was caught briefly by the shifting of light under the leafy eaves surrounding them. "Besides," he added with a small smile, "I believe your fears may be unfounded, my friend."

Though shadowed heavily by the canopy above, Hedon's sure strides were a familiar sight, even if he was weighed down by the beast tied up and draped over his shoulders. Beside him, the orcess loped along brightly, carrying both her weapon and Hedon's own overlarge bow on her back. The pair of them seemed engrossed in a companionable conversation, though Faramir noticed the orcess's expression fall a bit when she noticed the group of them standing outside the cave.

They were both a frightful sight. Though it seemed both Rukhash and Hedon had made some half hearted attempt to clean most of the gore off, their clothes were still stained through. The orcess's arms, now bare of their usual guards, were covered in dried, flaking blood. Faramir did not want to think of the mess dripping down Hedon's back.

"I am assuming your venture went well," Faramir noted lightly as they approached. "Though, by the look of you both, it seems it was a rather bloody affair."

With a grunt, Hedon threw his burden down several feet from where they stood and quickly pulled off his soiled outer vest. He cast a look of mock annoyance towards the orc, who remained where she had stopped, mid-step; a living statue just outside the tree line.

"Of course she had to dress the animal  _before_  we carried it back," Hedon groused good-naturedly as he draped his ruined clothing over his shoulder.

Her face lightened somewhat at his teasing. "Here I thought I were bein'  _thoughtful_ ," the orcess grumbled, glaring at him, though there seemed to be no real heat in her feline eyes. "Why carry all them extra guts up a cliff if ya ain't gonna eat 'em?"

Hedon untied their catch and began rolling up his sleeves. There was still some work to do butchering the stag; removing the skin and cutting it down. The soft crunch of grass alerted him to Rukhash approaching. From the corner of his eye, he caught her warily poised beside him.

"You can clean up if ya like," she said quietly, bending to pull her knife from her boot. "I can take care a it."

Hedon caught her wrist before she could draw her blade. There were a few men gathered at camp with Lord Faramir. Belegorn, Rivalon and Calon stood nearby, and Hedon knew, without looking, that they were watching the pair of them. While he appreciated her offer, Hedon imagined his comrades would be somewhat troubled to watch an orc skin  _anything_ , even if it was an animal they intended to eat.

"Let  _me_  take care of it," Hedon insisted. "You go on and get washed up." Rukhash frowned, confused for a moment, but must have caught the meaning behind his pointed look. She glanced briefly towards the men behind him and gave Hedon a brief nod before heading towards the stream.

Rivalon's steely gaze followed her until she vanished behind the tents. If the intense look on his face was any indication, it seemed as though Rivalon intended to go after the orcess. In an attempt to divert him from such foolishness, Calon touched his arm lightly, calling his attention. "Lord Faramir asked us to keep an open mind," he whispered under his breath. "Perhaps you should stop watching her like a hound watches a fox."

With a steadying sigh, Rivalon glanced towards Faramir and Belegorn, who were occupied with Hedon; peppering him with curious questions about his outing. He could not place why their interest in the orcess infuriated him, only that it did. "I should never have let you persuade me to come on this mission," he said darkly, glaring at Calon. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

A sympathetic look passed over Calon's face. "She is not the orc soldier that killed your parents," he soothed.

Rivalon scowled, quietly furious. " _I_  am not a frightened  _boy_  reliving the past, Calon," he hissed through his teeth, "which makes  _her_  no less  _an orc_. She does not need to be a soldier to be dangerous."

"She is  _Cadoc's_  orc," Calon argued in a stern, soft tone. He noted Faramir and Belegorn were still engrossed with Hedon before leaning in towards Rivalon. "We  _owe_  him, Rivalon. Besides," he added, "if Lord Faramir can accept this of Cadoc, perhaps our fears that he would punish us have been unfounded."

Rivalon subtly rolled his eyes and began walking towards the tents, intent on continuing their conversation in private. Calon followed. "You confuse acceptance with inquisitiveness," Rivalon grumbled. "He is curious about the creature, that much is obvious. It is easy to overlook what Cadoc's pledge insinuates in light of his own interests." Rivalon regarded Calon seriously. "When Lord Faramir looks at that orcess, do you suppose he sees Cadoc's wife, or simply an answer to his curiosities?"

"I couldn't say," Calon frowned, a little unsure.

"I do not trust her," Rivalon told him hotly. "I do not wholly believe her story from last night, and I do not believe that we should be so quick to let our guard down around her. Orcsare natural liars. She could, very easily, be fooling us all with false docility; even  _Cadoc_."

"Hedon seems to trust her," Calon countered. "He has far more intimate knowledge of her kind than you or I. Considering what he knows of orcs and his general opinion of them under most circumstances, you do not consider that trust a point in her favor?"

"It is a very  _small_  point," Rivalon replied with sharp eyes. "Cadoc is his closest friend. Why wouldn't he want to come to some concession with the creature?"

"Forgive me, Rivalon," Calon sighed, frustrated, and rubbed at his temple, "but I believe you are being somewhat paranoid in this instance." Rivalon seethed and Calon closed his eyes, deciding that it would be best to drop this conversation for the time being. "At the very least, you might cool your temper around her," he argued. "Keep your suspicions if you must, but at least give her a chance to prove herself before you condemn her."

Crossing his arms, Rivalon turned towards the stream running along the edge of the cliff where the orcess was retying her arm guards after her wash. She had managed to clean most of the blood off, though her baggy tunic was splotched with wet spots. In the bright light of morning, her beastly features were that much plainer. Rivalon had to admit, he was as caught up with the uniqueness of this situation as anyone else. An orc that did not thirst for blood was something of an anomaly, but that just made him more suspicious of her.

The orcess glanced up from where she was kneeling, noticing him. Her triangular ears pinned back and she took on a fretful look, almost cowering, though several meters separated them. From the corner of his eye, Rivalon noticed Calon raise his hand in a tentative greeting. The orcess smiled at him briefly before rising and scurrying back towards the cave, cautiously skirting around the tents and giving them a wide berth. Rivalon watched her until she vanished into the mouth of the cave.  _Not like a hound watches a fox,_ he thought fiercely.  _Like a hound watches a_ ** _wolf_** _._

Calon delicately cleared his throat to catch Rivalon's attention before favoring him with a reproving glare. "What you are doing is unfair." Calon whispered, his tone unusually hard. "You are putting her in a position where she cannot win, Rivalon. You might show this orcess at least  _half_  the understanding and thoughtfulness that Cadoc showed  _us_  when he found out…" swallowing roughly, Calon's eyes darted around, making sure they were still alone before returning to the man at his side. "There are men out there that would put him in chains and his lover's head on a  _pike_. I do not care  _what_  she is, I will not count myself among such men. Would  _you_?"

Rivalon's posture softened, a contrite look passing over him. He shook his head silently. "I will try... to keep an open mind," he conceded.

" _Thank you_ ," Calon sighed.

* * *

She stood for a long minute, staring at the back of Faramir's wraith-killing, straw-head wife. Rukhash was honestly unsure how to approach the woman. It was fairly obvious, at least to Rukhash, that Éowyn wanted nothing to do with an orc, but she refused to relinquish Cadoc's care solely to her; and right now, she wanted to be near him. His scent alone was enough to calm her frazzled nerves. Hunting had helped to run off some excess energy, and Hedon was enough of a sport to let her eat her deer liver on the way back – she had been starving – but now she was surrounded by these  _people_  again.

At least there were less of them milling about. Rukhash wasn't sure where the bulk of them were. As they returned, she and Hedon had passed three of the younger rangers on their way out to do a quick reconnoissance of the perimeter before the morning meal. That trio seemed somewhat enthusiastic about venison breakfast. Stomachs were fairly universal, and Rukhash hoped some fresh steaks would make the same, good impression on these men that they would make on a pack of orcs...

Meeting Cadoc's work crew was not like meeting Cadoc's family. Rukhash had _wanted_  his family to like her. At first, it was so Cadoc would honor his promise of seeing her home. Then, it was because they were, as far as orcish custom went,  _her_  family. Cadoc got on well with all of his kin, so Rukhash would to do the same. And she  _did_  like them, despite their infuriating mannish habits and a parting that had been messier and more emotional than she would have preferred. But as far as these rangers went, Rukhash couldn't care less whether or not they liked her, so long as no one tried to lob her head off. The fact that she needed to make some kind of good show for Cadoc's boss was somewhat infuriating.

Rukhash was tired of proving herself to people. Hedon was different. These other rangers may have fought alongside Cadoc, but they were not the ones who came to Cadoc's aid when Barmund and his crew attacked them in the cottage; they did not stand vigil with Cadoc while she was injured; they hadn't arrived in time to save her life at the Anduin; and they didn't risk their own necks escorting Rukhash and Cadoc across half of Gondor. Rukhash's personal feelings towards Hedon varied depending on his mood towards her, and how much nudging she could endure, but she could not deny his loyalty to Cadoc, and that alone was worthy of respect. She wished she could boast such loyalty from her own brother.

Pushing aside that troubling thought before it could upset her, Rukhash wondered how best to approach the woman crushing herbs beside her  _shaûk_. Éowyn hadn't greeted her when she entered, hadn't even  _looked_  at her. What was Rukhash supposed to say to the warrior who had slain the Nazgûl  _lord_? 'Nice to meet you?' That was a disaster! Rukhash could not remember being so  _awestruck_  by someone before. She could not meet a more fearsome individual than this, aside from the bloke responsible for felling the Red Eye.

Very suddenly, and for no reason she could really place, Rukhash missed Morwen and Wulf.

Rukhash reminded herself that not all of the men here were giving her the hairy eyeballs. The old bloke she met that morning seemed nice enough, and Cadoc's boss seemed willing to listen to her, even the lad that palled around with Rivalon – Rukhash wished she had been more attentive to their names – gave her a brief, friendly wave just a few minutes ago. With a deep breath, she decided to suck it up and say, 'hello.' If she could get on Hedon's better side, and he had very decidedly  _not_  liked her for quite a while, then there was no reason that she couldn't be on decent terms with the rest of these people.

Summoning some charm and bottling her temper, Rukhash made the short journey from the mouth of the cave to where Cadoc lay prone near the rear. Éowyn cast a wary eye in her direction as she knelt by his side and took his hand. For a moment, Rukhash thought the woman might bat her away, but she settled herself, regarding Rukhash quietly for several seconds before turning her attention back on the pungent paste she was mashing.

The orcess swallowed nervously. "He's the same, yea?"

"He is," Éowyn replied curtly.

"Gotta wash them cloths I changed this mornin'," Rukhash mumbled, staring at the pile of discarded linen in the corner.

Despite that proclamation, Éowyn noticed that the orcess did not seem particularly inclined to leave Cadoc's side. In all honesty, a part of Éowyn wanted to shoo her off, uncomfortable with an orc so close to a man in such a vulnerable position. Éowyn did not know Cadoc personally, but she had met him on a few, formal occasions; including her own wedding. He had seemed, at the time, like a good natured individual, bright with a gentle way about him. Hardly the type of man Éowyn would imagine with something like an  _orc_.

Faramir's words from the night before echoed back to her.  _Do your best to reign in your judgement._.. And she was trying, but every time she looked at Rukhash, Éowyn was reminded of those dark, terrifying monsters that swarmed Pelennor Field, or the disfigured refugees that flooded out of the Westfold in the wake of Saruman's attacks on Rohan.

It was hard for her to believe this creature had the level of healing skill that Hedon claimed – despite the scar on Cadoc's mended leg that would prove otherwise – never mind the capacity for gentleness that a relationship with a Man would suggest.

"I ain't never seen no one sleep this long without a head wound ta back it up," the orcess said quietly, breaking Éowyn's train of thought. The orc raised her overlarge, bright eyes towards the woman beside her. "You ever seen this?" she asked, anxious sounding.

"Actually, I have," Éowyn replied, and tried not to feel vindicated by the orcess's lack of knowledge. "Sometimes, if a body is in great pain, the mind will force sleep to allow it to heal."

"Yea?" She sounded unsure.

Éowyn nodded. "Severe injuries, such as Cadoc's, could easily cause such a response, but I have found no sign of internal bleeding, and his ribs are merely bruised, cracked at the worst. I believe he will rouse soon."

The orcess brushed her knuckles gently across Cadoc's hairy jaw and something intangible in Éowyn shuddered at that intimate contact. "Sometimes I feel like I'm guessin'," the orc muttered. "Most a what I know works on 'im, but it's slower. Men 'n orcs're just different enough, I s'pose..." Her throat worked in a rough swallow and she wrinkled her nose. "He reeks like  _skûmaath_ ," she grumbled before stifling a sneeze.

"I beg your pardon," Éowyn grimaced at the strange, obviously orcish word.

"You know," Rukhash said with a pointed look. "That crawlin' green plant wit' the little white flowers. Grows in the shade-"

"Kingsfoil," Éowyn supplied the common name.

The orcess frowned. " _Nar, nar_ ," she said, shaking her head. "Cadoc told me it were called somthin' else. Uthels... er... somethin' like 'at."

" _Athelas_ ," Éowyn corrected absently. "Did Cadoc teach you Sindarin?" she asked, trying to keep the humor from her voice. To think, an orc speaking  _Sindarin_!

"A little," Rukhash replied, and Éowyn could swear she was blushing. "Ain't real good at it."

Éowyn had become fairly decent at the language, herself, over the years, but it had been rough going at the start. She could not imagine the pitfalls a creature with a voice like Rukhash would come across. "I had some difficulty when I first was learning it as well," she admitted and shook her head. "These Gondor men and their elvish tongues!"

Rukhash fancied her with a lopsided grin –an odd thing to see on an orcish face – before fixing her attention back on the man in their care. "You're usin' it fresh," she observed.

"I am," Éowyn confirmed, a little bemused with this conversation. To speak of such mundane things with an orc! "Do orcs use Athelas?" she queried, curiously surprised. Kingsfoil was a powerful tool to ward off evil. In Aragorn's hands, it staved off the malicious miasma of a Morgul blade. Éowyn wondered how it was possible that orcs could even  _touch_  it.

"Yea, yea," the orcess confirmed. "Not fresh, though. Makes most folk sneeze like anythin'. But it's what the salve's made from. I need ta gather up a bunch myself ta make more. I'll steep in water fer a few day an' once it turns black an' mushy I'll boil it down. Easy as anythin' ta make, an 'at stuff grows everywhere. Even a field medic could whip some up. Lasts forever an' at sticky smell it's got goes away once it's under water."

"You don't like its smell?" Éowyn found that very interesting. Almost as interesting as the fact that orcish black salve was made from kingsfoil. Granted the orcs seemed to strip it of any comely quality before it could be used…

"Makes me sneeze," the orcess said with a shrug, and as if to illustrate her point, stifled another sneeze. "Wish you didn't use so much on 'im," she added with a sniffle.

"Most Men find the smell quite pleasant," Éowyn informed her.

"Eh," the orcess shrugged and sniffled again. "Cadoc's sis used to boil this pot-pour-ee cause she liked the way it made 'er house smell, but it just made me wanna chuck. Orc noses're too sensitive fer that sorta stink."

Glancing towards the mouth of the cave, Éowyn realized Faramir had been eavesdropping on their conversation. She wondered if he found it as fascinating as she did. "I am afraid I would prefer to leave it on him and let it do its work," she told the orcess.

A tired expression glazed over her features. Rukhash was rubbing her temples, her eyes squeezed shut. "I'll defer ta you," she said, pained. "Don't wanna muck up him gettin' better cause a my stupid nose. It's sorta gettin' ta me, though." The orcess rose to her feet and plucked the soiled linens from the corner. "I'll just go wash these," she said and sneezed loudly. She blinked her watering eyes wearily and hurried out of the cave.

Faramir moved to the side to let her pass before entering the cavern and coming to stand near his wife. "How fascinating," he said, quietly regarding Cadoc as he slept. "It would seem that Athelas is a secret not only known to elves and kings."

"You should tell your rangers to start wearing fresh wreaths of it," Éowyn said with a mischievous smile. "How amusing it would be, to see a whole raiding party of orcs fall victim to vicious allergies."

"Somehow, I think the orcs might be undeterred," Faramir admitted dryly. "At any rate, no orcish raiding parties have entered Ithilien in over seven years, and none have been seen in South Gondor for the past three years. I am afraid this pertinent information comes to us too late."

His attention fixed on Cadoc. "He is the same?"

"Yes," Éowyn confirmed as she spread a little more crushed Athelas on his chest.

"Go easy, Éowyn," Faramir said lightly.

"My Lord?"

"I know she makes you uncomfortable," the prince said gently, kneeling next to his beloved. He placed a calming hand on her tense shoulder and added, "I do not blame you for your discomfort, but I would ask that you do not take a petty vengeance out on her."

"I am not-"

"Did you know, according to Hedon, she was but a girl of twelve during the War."

Éowyn frowned slightly. "I did not know that," she admitted. "She does not look that young."

"I cannot say that she is any age," Faramir admitted with a shrug. "Twenty or two hundred, I do not think I could tell the difference, but that is of little consequence. I am wary of her as well, Éowyn, but I feel it would be unfair not to give her the benefit of the doubt. Look what she has done to remain with him…"

"You do not know that any of that is true," Éowyn argued. "It could simply be a random orc in that cavern; not a brother at all. You have only her word. The word of an orc..."

"And yet, we do not know if it is false," Faramir returned, and gestured to Cadoc's prone form. "The only one who can corroborate her story is unable at the moment."

"She has been taking fine care of him, has she not?" Faramir added. "You said so yesterday when you were tending him; do not think I don't remember. And her worry is fairly obvious. If  _I_  can see her concern for him, then I know  _you_ are able to see it, as intuitive as you are to such things."

"It makes me somewhat unsettled," Éowyn admitted.

"I know few who would not be unsettled," Faramir said. "I am also a little unsettled, but the more I observe her, the less unsettled I become. Perhaps you might try to consider her, not as an orc, but a particularly homely Woman."

Éowyn laughed lightly. "For a moment I felt real pity for her as we spoke," she said with a rue smile. "Sindarin is an infuriating language to learn."

"Indeed," the prince confirmed with a knowing smile. "And you know I appreciate all of your sacrifices as my wife, dear one."

* * *

Outside, the deer was being roasted, and Rukhash might have enjoyed the smell if she wasn't so stuffed up. The orcess fell into a round of sneezing before wiping her eyes and hurrying along. Several men had gathered in front of the cave, returned from their morning task and waiting on breakfast. Rukhash didn't feel like stopping.

She was flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't even sit near Cadoc for two seconds without falling into a fit of sneezing; and might have expected that Éowyn had doused him with fresh  _skûmaath_  on purpose, out of spite, except that he was obviously breathing deeper and more easily. Rukhash had never felt more stupid, or inept, in all her life.

Hedon watched with a puzzled frown as Rukhash emerged furiously from the cave, hesitate as if she were ready to flee in several directions all at once, and finally stalk into the tree line. He was not the only one to notice her swift, awkward departure. Calon drew alongside him. Leaning forward, he whispered, "Should someone follow her?"

"What?" Hedon replied, startled.

"It may not be wise for her to go off alone," Calon explained.

"Oh," Hedon shook his head. "I am sure she will be fine. Celeblas, Donir and Míron said they found no signs of anyone this morning." Frowning, Hedon reconsidered his nonchalance on the subject, and stood.

Calon caught his arm. "See to breakfast," he said, nodding towards the spits roasting. "I will make sure she does not run afoul any trouble."

"You are sure?" Hedon was surprised to have a volunteer to guard Rukhash, but Calon was a good a candidate for that as any. He had seemed the least disturbed by her relationship with Cadoc.

With a casual salute, Calon headed in the direction that the orcess disappeared into the trees. She was not hard to follow. The orcess made no attempt to hide her passage and Calon tracked her easily to where the stream flowed deeper into the surrounding forest. They were not so far from camp. In the echoing distance, Calon could make out Belegorn's boisterous laughter.

The orcess was beating cloths against the rocky shore, washing them with vigorous fury. Calon was somewhat perplexed. There were equally suitable stones for this where the stream flowed closer to camp. He found it curious that she would trek so far to do some washing. He heard her sniffle a few times, he shoulders shaking, and Calon realized she had ventured further for some privacy. Deciding to give her that privacy, he made to turn and promptly snapped a twig beneath his boot.

The orcess nearly jumped out of her skin. " _The fuck're you creepin' up on me fer?_ " she shrieked at him.

"I did not intend to 'creep'," Calon said, raising his hands placatingly. "I told Hedon I would see that you were safe, but obviously you have come here to be alone."

She looked a wreck. The corners of her eyes were bloodshot and a little clear liquid dripped down from her nose. She sniffed miserably, quickly wiping her eyes, and turned back towards her laundry. "Whatever," she grumbled under her breath. "That other one ain't with you is he? Off in them trees spyin' at me?"

His hackles rose a little at the dark look on her face when she mentioned Rivalon. Calon supposed he couldn't blame her, but he was not particularly pleased that she regarded the man with such obvious ire. "Rivalon is resting a moment before we eat," Calon assured her in an even tone. "We had half the sleep of our comrades last night."

"Maybe all that glarin' wore 'im out," the orcess groused. "But 'e 'as his  _reasons_ , yea?  _Skai,_ everyone got their bloody  _reasons_."

Drawing alongside her as she scrubbed, Calon was unsure what to tell her regarding Rivalon's disdain. What good would it do her to know that his parents were killed by orcs when he was a boy? That he lost his older brother just a few years later? Or that his childhood was punctuated by the frequent orcish attacks on Henneth Annûn? Somehow, Calon doubted Rivalon would want the orcess's pity, if she even had the pity to spare him.

"His experiences with your people have not been pleasant," Calon reasoned.

"Yea, well he should get in line," the orcess growled as she wrung out a length of linen. Calon might have bristled at her tone if her whole face didn't screw up miserably. The orcess looked ready to bawl. Squeezing her eyes shut, it seemed as though she was making the attempt to force it all back down. "Why the fuck'd you all come out here anyway?" she hissed tightly.

"Because Lord Faramir requested it of us," Calon replied.

"And why's  _he_  here?" the orcess huffed.

Calon imagined Lord Faramir had a number of reasons for coming, but only one came to mind immediately. "Because Cadoc is one of his captains, and Lord Faramir is not the type to turn his back one of his men in need. The Rangers of Ithilien are a small, elite sect. We are considered military, but really, it is as much a part of what we are as our Dúnedain blood. We do not abandon our own."

The orcess regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, a tiny snarl forming at the corner of her mouth. "You should tell that shit ta Dellon," she sniffed before turning back to her laundry.

He blinked a moment at that statement. Hedon had mentioned that Dellon was leading a group looking for Cadoc, but said nothing about engaging him previously. "You have met Dellon?"

"'At's usin' the term 'met' sorta loosely," the orcess replied sardonically.

He was silent for a long moment, regarding the black skinned female kneeling at the bank alongside him. Calon was not sure if he wanted to inquire as to an orc's opinion of  _Dellon_. "He turned in his green cloak years ago to pursue his vengeance," Calon said at length. "He is still a Knight of Gondor, but Dellon can no longer call himself a Ranger in good conscience."

She barked out a humorless, hissing laugh. "Way ta stick with yer own," the orc noted darkly.

"Dellon abandoned  _us_ ," Calon snapped, defensive. "He could not be content that Ithilien and Gondor were safe, but insisted upon riding with orc hunters into Mordor. His own agenda came before the good of his people."

Rukhash stopped what she was doing to look at him, her expression sad as she searched his face. "Are there any a my folk left  _anywhere_?" she asked, her voice desperate. "Did I fucking kill the last two of 'em?"

Taken aback, Calon's indignation cooled in a wave of pity. "You did not," Calon assured her. "I am sure, in southern Nûrn, there are plenty of orcs. Here, we are just east of Duath. No Man has passed over those mountains and lived to tell of what he found, so I would imagine there are still some orcs on the other side of them. Three years ago, the people in northern Nûrn requested an end to the orc hunts there, and no one has crossed the river that separates the northern plains from the southern cliffs. I am sure that you will find more of your kind in Nûrn."

"Cadoc said 'bout the same," the orcess said with a small sigh.

"Does he really intend to live among your folk?" Calon asked. With Cadoc unconscious, Rukhash was the only one who could answer that question at the moment. Calon still found it a little unbelievable. He wasn't sure if such a prospect was amusing or troubling. Probably a little of both.

"Said 'e were up fer it," the orcess confirmed, "but we'd probably be better off on our own. It's just... it's a scary thought, thinkin' I'm the last."

"I assure you, that is not the case," Calon told her.

Wringing the cloths out one final time, Rukhash began folding them into rough squares. "These're about as clean as they're gonna get," she mumbled as she gathered the linens up and turned to leave. She paused, mid step, as Calon turned to follow her. "What's yer name again?" she asked.

"Calon," he replied, feeling oddly insulted that she did not remember introductions from the day before. He supposed she was too stressed to file that information away.

"Calon," she repeated with a little nod. "I'm Rukhash."

"I know," he said, confused as to why she would mention it. "Hedon already told us your name."

"Well," she huffed, "now  _I_  told you." The orcess turned her back on him and headed towards camp. Calon quietly followed.

* * *

Stopping by a young beech growing near a clear stream, Dellon ran his gloved fingers along some bark that had been scraped away near the base. He had stopped because the markings were suspicious, but looking closer, he realized they were merely made by a buck scraping the velvet from his new antlers.

Dellon was furious.

Cadoc's trail had gone completely cold, and the past few weeks had been spent scouring the mountain forests south of the Poros River, trying to find some sign of him. Most of the men deputized by Aradhel had left already, tired of searching. Only a handful brave souls remained from the twenty men that had followed him out here. But what could he expect from bounty hunters? They cared more about the price of a man's head than seeing justice done, and the price on Cadoc's head had significantly lessened in the wake of King Elessar's ruling.

And Dellon would see justice done, even if Cadoc's sentence had been reduced. He would not allow a man overtaken by an orc's foul influence to roam free, and he was sure once the King laid eyes on the orc Cadoc now answered to, once he saw the thrall she held the man in, he would rethink the softening of their punishment.

"Dellon," a voice sounded behind him, cutting into his train of thought.

He did not bother to turn when he replied. "What is it Aewion?"

Aewion was even younger than Dellon, the younger brother of an orc hunter that had been killed three years ago in Nûrn. His brother Craban had been a fine orc hunter, standing with Dellon against the hordes that occupied Mordor, and Aewion was one of the most loyal hunters he had now. The boy knew what kind of monster they were after. What cruelty an orc was capable of. How much worse, if orcs started calling honorable Men like Cadoc to their side.

Dellon did not like the troubled look on Aewion's face. "Have you found something?"

"No," Aewion said. "Tuilindir and Emlinor have decided to leave us."

"What?"

Aewion shook his head as though he were ashamed for them. "They wanted to go home to their families. They have not been out on such a venture in years."

Dellon huffed quietly. "That makes ten of us now? No matter. Ten is still more than enough to take the pair of them."

"There were only ten of you when you engaged Cadoc last time…"

"There were eleven," Dellon corrected. "And he had us at a disadvantage last time. Besides, Barmund's rabble of half drunken friends were no match for a trained ranger. Let Tuilindir and Emlinor go if they have no stomach for it. So long as you and Draugon remain with me, I will not fear facing Cadoc and his Monster."

"I do not know Cadoc, but it is horrible, what that creature has done to him." Aewion had a sick look about him.

"I agree," Dellon said as he gathered his horse's loose reigns, feeling a little ill himself. "But I must assume that somewhere in the degenerate he has become is the Man who trained me. He knocked me unconscious before I could take the beast's life, but he did not kill me. I can only hope that we can undo what she has done to him."

With a short nod, Aewion headed back towards what remained of their group. In truth, Dellon was furious to loose Tuilindir and Emlinor. They were good warriors, and experienced. No as much so as Cadoc, but more than the young men that remained.

Dellon would not let this small setback trouble him. He simply needed to keep his wits about him. The orc had gotten the jump on them last time. This time, he would not underestimate her cunning.

Turning their path south, he pushed forward. There would be no finding Cadoc if he were to disappear into Mordor, and Dellon was determined to find him and the monster that ensnared him before that happened.


	44. What Defines Us

**Splint**

**Chapter Forty-four: What Defines Us**

* * *

Faramir's men did not seem overly concerned that their morning meal came from the labors of an orc. Even Éowyn looked content to eat something besides travel rations. Rukhash, fairly full from her liver, sat just beneath the cave eave so she was shadowed from the growing sunlight beating down on the little clearing outside the cave. The rangers were mostly ignoring her, gathered in a ring alongside the tents and chatting amiably among themselves, the fire in the middle of them. If Cadoc didn't stink like Athelas, she would be further inside the cave, sitting next to him. Instead, she made herself as inconspicuous as possible, occasionally wiping her eyes as the scent of fresh  _skûmaath_  drifted past her nose.

The group was in generally good spirits, and Rukhash took the reprieve from their scrutiny to study them as they had studied her the night before. Most of them were older, probably near Cadoc in age, if their greying hair was any indication. Belegorn was the oldest among them, his head nearly white. Next to him were the youngest men in the group… Rukhash barely recalled their names – Donir and Míron, was it? – they seemed about the same age as Hedon, their hair solid shades of brown and black respectively.

Their boss appeared to be the youngest of them all, which was odd, since she was very sure Cadoc had mentioned that Faramir was a few years his senior. He didn't look like a prince to Rukhash. He was dressed in the same, drab attire as the rest of them. Rukhash always thought mannish royalty were prim, flowery cunts on white horses. Then again, that sounded like something that Shapag and Ragbad would tell her, and soldiers' stories were not always reliable. Ragbad, especially, had the habit of over exaggerating.

They were a rough looking bunch, these rangers, sitting around a fire, laughing, teasing each other… If Rukhash closed her eyes, they could easily be a group of orcs. A group of orcs with more sonorous voices, but still not so different from any close knit pack of lads she had ever been around. She knew, even though she had just met these Men a day before, that they had spent a good long time together.

_We ain't so different in some ways_ , she thought, trying to calm herself. They still made her nervous. The scent of kingsfoil slipped up her nostrils and she sneezed hard. Sniffling, she tucked herself against the wall of the cave and wiped her eyes, content to eavesdrop and stay out of the conversation.

"It is a shame we do not have a keg of ale on hand," Míron chuckled. "It would not seem as though we were out in the wilds at all." A general round of approval went up at that proclamation.

"Many thanks for the fine meal, Hedon," praised Salaben from his place to Hedon's left. "There will be more than enough left over for the rest of the day and into tomorrow as well, I'd imagine."

"Not that we do not enjoy your fascinating concoctions, Uialon," Donir teased. The older ranger grunted, still chewing, and waved him off and another round of chuckling went up.

"You should thank Rukhash," Hedon said off handedly, glancing back at the orcess. "If not for her assistance, I do not think I would have found his buck. Indeed, I would have been content not to hunt at all if she did not drag me out."

The orcess grunted and crossed her arms, casting her eyes to the ground. "Weren't nothin'," she mumbled.

Hedon smiled gently at her, sure it was a blush he saw creeping across her cheeks. "She is modest," he pressed. "She sniffed out this buck with little effort. I will admit, I was quite impressed."

Donir leaned forward to clear Hedon so he could make eye contact with the orcess. "I am curious, madam orc, what does it smell like?"

"What?" Rukhash was startled to be addressed. She had been doing her best to stay out of their sight since she returned. "What does what smell like?"

"A deer," Donir clarified. "I know what buckskin smells like, but it is not a scent so strong it can be tracked. I am wondering what a deer smells like to an orc."

Blinking, the orcess took a moment to find her voice. " _Gar_ ," she grunted. "Deer smell like deer, I guess. This bloke were hurt. Had 'imself a fight 'is morning'. It were his blood I were trackin'."

The entire group went completely silent. "His blood?" Faramir echoed.

"Well, yea," the orcess said with an exasperated glance towards Hedon. He shrugged at her. Fine help he was!

"The scent travels more'n just your normal body stink," she explained to the concerned, troubled faces staring at her. "Asides, it meant 'e were hurt already. If your huntin', you want after the game at'll give you the least trouble, 'cause – you know – it'll mean you're more likely ta catch something'. I mean, 'ats how my da always taught me."

"I suppose those are not unwise words," Faramir tentatively admitted.

"Course they're wise words!" Rukhash huffed, a little insulted. "He were a real smart bloke, my dad." Her spine straightened a little, remembering her father. His careful lessons, squeezed in between his long hours of working. Some lessons were given even while he was working. Rukhash knew how to carve bows and fletch arrows because she did so in the armory of Orthanc.

"I am sure he was," Faramir told her with a smile that made her bristle. It was like he was indulging her; as though she were a small child that said something endearing and naive.

Rukhash glanced longingly at Cadoc as he slept.  _I wish you'd wake up shaûkizub_ , she thought desperately.  _Yer friends are bleeding idiots_.

"I have heard," Rivalon's accusatory baritone piped up from across the circle, "that orcs can smell fear. Is that true?" His eyes were hard on her. Calon, who was sitting next to Rivalon, nudged him not-gently in the ribs. Faramir might have corrected him as well, except that he had heard similar stories and was likewise curious.

Realizing that the rangers had fixed her with their attention once again, Rukhash delicately cleared her throat. "Well," she said, trying to find the right words, and decided to simply use honest ones. "Yea, we can."

"You can smell fear," Éowyn confirmed, and began to let of a subtle scent of panic herself.

Rukhash, at a loss, shrugged and nodded.

" _Of course_  they can," one of the men muttered, but Rukhash wasn't sure which.

"What does it smell like?" Faramir asked, a curious look on his face.

The orcess felt her eye  _twitch_ … "It smells… like fear… Fuck, I dunno!" she said throwing her arms up in the air.

"Rukhash…" Hedon warned, glancing around at the edgy looks on his comrades faces. Hedon was used to her outbursts, but the others were not. Calon had an oddly calm look about him as he laid a hand on Rivalon's sword arm.

Faramir raised his palm in redress. "Forgive me," he said lightly, though Rukhash could sense the tension in his voice. "It was only a simple question."

"It  _ain't_  a simple question," she corrected him. "I'm sure lotsa stuff can smell fear aside of orcs. Dogs, wolves, bears –  _shit_  – go ask  _them_  what fear smells like!" Her head throbbed, and the little sprog did a tumble in her belly. She pressed the pads of her fingers against her temple. "I got such a headache from you people. And them stinkin' flowers! Did you dump a bloody bushel on him?"

"It is helping him  _breathe_ ," Éowyn snapped, defensively.

"There's a million things at'll help 'im breathe 'at won't drive me mad!" the orcess hissed.

Éowyn rose swiftly to her feet. "Then find something and we will use it!"

Rukhash stood in turn – followed by Faramir and half of his men – but faltered at Éowyn's statement. "Well… arright," she said hesitantly, caught off stride by the woman's easy compliance. Her eyes darted nervously around the score of men who had suddenly risen to their feet, tensed for action. Hedon was the only one standing with his back to her.

Shuffling anxiously for a moment, she finally headed off into the dense growth of the surrounding woods with quick strides, avoiding eye contact. Hedon, who had stood to protect Rukhash from anyone foolishly charging at her, followed the orcess into the forest, his head bowed with resigned commitment.

Faramir glanced sidelong at his lady wife.

"You cannot accuse  _me_  of being the difficult one!" was all she said as she ducked into the cave.

"That certainly got out of hand quickly," Calon commented with bitter humor as he began to gather up the remnants of breakfast. Rivalon wandered towards the tents and Calon did not bother to follow, annoyed that he would be so careless with his words after their conversation earlier.

"Indeed," Belegorn agreed, picking his teeth with a dry twig before rising to help.

"I did not think my inquiry would become an argument," Donir said.

"It was Rivalon's comment that started the argument," Calon accused, but Rivalon had yet to return to hear his jab.

"The orc is a bit edgy, isn't she?" Uialon scoffed. "Certainly Lord Faramir's comment did not deserve such a heated response."

"No, Uialon, it was unfair of me to ask. Think how you would feel, being cornered with such questions," Faramir said as he pitched in to help. He had wavered a moment, debating going in the cave after Éowyn, but he felt it wiser to allow her to cool her temper before engaging her in conversation.

"I  _was_  a little concerned that she might attack Lady Éowyn," Míron admitted as he helped Belegorn tie up the carcass so it could be hung from a high tree limb.

Faramir nodded quietly. His fear was the same. The orcess had jumped to her feet with startling speed. However, though her words had been clipped and disrespectful, he had seen no murder in her eyes, only frustration and insult. And then, fear, once she realized six armed rangers were ready to charge her at a notice.

How quick they were to judge her actions! He might have thought of less troubling things to ask her. Certainly, there were gentler aspects of orcish existence that could have been discussed. He might have inquired about a father she obviously thought highly of, instead of hounding her about blood and fear.  _Easily, we turn to old habits_ , he berated himself.

* * *

_He sniffed miserably, trying his best to reign in his emotion. His blackened eye throbbed where Barmund had hit him. A cheap shot. Cadoc hadn't been ready for it, but he managed to recover quickly. Deputy Halbard had to drag him off of the older boy, and when Barmund's grim faced father came to fetch him, he was a bloody mess. Barmund had the first punch, but Cadoc had the last, and that was the more important one._

_His mother had been furious. She had been so furious, she didn't even bother taking a switch to his backside. This was no idle fight between boys. There were witnesses, and Barmund's father wanted to press charges. Fortunately, the magistrate was not as incensed. He sent both boys home with their parents, after he made Cadoc agree not to fight with the older boy again. When they arrived home, Guthwen sent Cadoc straight to his room to wait on his father, who had traveled a day out to assist several local lawmen in apprehending a large group of ruffians._

_Laying on his bed, watching the sky darken as the late autumn chill began to creep into his room, Cadoc sniffed again. His father rarely disciplined him. He was away so often, that it was his mother that usually wielded the switch, but Cadoc's parents did not like their son fighting. And Cadoc did a good deal of fighting. "You need to bottle that temper!" his mother would admonish._

_But he couldn't help it. Not when the older boys were quick to mock him for his heritage, for the slight, practically indiscernible, variances in his features that marked him as part Dunlending. Was he supposed to sit quietly while they debased his family? They were constantly picking on him, and Cadoc was not afraid to show them that he could pick back! It felt good to get a shot in on Barmund. Usually, he had a group with him. Today, he had been foolish enough to challenge Cadoc on his lonesome._

_Cadoc smiled quietly, remembering the surprised look on Barmund's face when he had decked him hard enough to knock him down._ Not so scrawny after all, eh, you bastard _,_   _he thought vindictively._

_The front door lurched open, shaking the rafters, and Cadoc swore, recognizing the heavy rhythm of his father's steel-toed boots. Cadoc had hoped he would not return until tomorrow. At least then, his mother might calm down over night before she related what happened. He could forgo dinner if it lessened whatever punishment his father thought up._

_The shrill voice of his mother was a muffled series of inarticulate syllables and vowels, but Cadoc did not need to hear what she was saying to know she was upset about it. This was the first time a deputy had to break up a fight. Cadoc could admit it was stupid to quarrel when he was still so close to the village proper. That was why Barmund and his friends usually jumped him when he was walking home. Cadoc's parents lived outside the village, down a long dirt path that let through some dense thickets. Sometimes Cadoc got the better of them, and sometimes they had the better of him. Either way, there was never anyone around to get them into trouble._

_"I will speak with him," Belon's deep, soft baritone rumbled calmly through the door, and those familiar, heavy footfalls approached his bedroom. With a shuddering breath, Cadoc pulled his knees up to his chest and turned away from the door as his father opened it, casting a long rectangle of gold light against the cold darkness of the far wall._

_The door closed and the light vanished. His bed dipped heavily where his father sat on the far side._

_"Cadoc." Belon's voice was stern and authoritative. The kind of voice that demanded an answer. Cadoc said nothing in return, but willed himself not to cry. Nine summers was too old for him to be weeping like a little girl!_

_Behind him, his father huffed quietly. "Let's see it," he ordered firmly._

_Cadoc rolled onto his back, meeting his father's grey gaze with his own defiant look. Belon reached out with his massive, gloved hand to prod gingerly at Cadoc's blackened eye with his thumb. Cadoc winced, but said nothing._

_"I understand he was the one to strike you first," his father said off handedly. His prodding ceased, but he still cupped his son's jaw lightly, an unreadable look on his face._

_Cadoc nodded. "He called me a filthy Dunlander."_

_"Did he?"_

_Cadoc nodded again, fierce anger filling him. "He's always saying things like that. He says bad stuff about you and ma too. And granny and granddad."_

_"And what do you say to him in return?" his father queried._

_Cadoc felt his neck go red. "Stuff," he mumbled, not meeting his father's gaze. "No one likes me because of him," he added in a hoarse whisper._

_"That is not true," his father said, an unsure tone creeping in. "You have plenty of friends."_

_Cadoc's face screwed up. When his father brought other rangers over, he hung around with them, there were a few other boys on farmsteads nearby that he saw occasionally, when his mother would visit their mothers, but Cadoc could not say he had any close friends. No one that would have his back, at any rate. But what would his father know of that? It wasn't as if he was home enough to notice. Tears threatened, and Cadoc rolled over and covered his face, forcing them back down with several, frame shaking hiccups._

_"Cadoc," his father sighed and gathered him against his side. Cadoc did break then, sobbing for long seconds into his father's dusty vest._

_Cadoc's jaw clenched. "I am_ not  _a filthy Dunlander," he insisted._

_"You are not_ filthy _, but we_ are _part Dunlending, Cadoc. There is nothing wrong with it. You loved your grandmother dearly, didn't you?"_

_Cadoc nodded. He missed his granny like he hadn't missed anyone before. She had been his best friend up until her death last year. His fights seemed more earnest since her passing._

_"And she loved you," Belon continued. "Your grandmother was a fine woman, one of the best women. She may have been born to Dunland, but she was a true daughter of Gondor, don't ever doubt that."_

_"Being Dunlending, or even Haradrim, does not make you lesser. Do you know those lawless men I apprehended today had not a drop of foreign blood among them. Gondor men all, and none of them better for it. It is not what you are, but who you are that defines you, and it is up to you which nature you nourish: the good or the wicked."_

_"You should not allow yourself to be goaded by petty words, and you should not fall to Barmund's level. Trust me, all of his cruelty will come back on him in the end, and you will be all the more justified, because you did not return it on him."_

_"What if he hits me first?" Cadoc challenged._

_His father scratched his bearded jaw, thoughtful, warily regarding him. "I do not blame you for striking him back, Cadoc. If you must defend yourself, then so be it, but your mother told me what state you left that boy in. There was no reason for you to keep hitting him once he was down. It was vengeance you wanted, and now you've had it. Do you feel better that you have injured him so?"_

_"A little," Cadoc admitted in a tiny voice. His father glared at him. "But I shouldn't?"_

_"No," his father said sternly. "That is orcish cruelty; to find joy in the suffering of another."_

_"Oh," he breathed, more upset that he had disappointed his father in his answer than that he felt little guilt over the injury he cause Barmund._

_"Honor demands you know the difference, Cadoc," he father insisted, his voice unrelenting._

_Cadoc nodded earnestly. "I do," he said. "I'm sorry, da, I am. Don't be mad."_

_"I am not angry with you, Cadoc," his father sighed. "Only saddened that my son would employ such violence. If you must strike against another, then it should be in your own defense, or in the defense of others, and nothing greater than what is necessary. Anything more is unjust, and unbecoming a man of honor. Do you understand?"_

_"Yes sir," Cadoc replied._

_"Good," his father nodded sharply. His usually grim countenance lightened a little. "Now, do you feel as though you have been punished enough?"_

_Cadoc tried desperately to keep the excitement from his voice. It would appear his father was in a merciful mood. "Yes sir!"_

_"Very well," his father stood and lent his hand to help his son rise as well. "Let's have supper then, and put this behind us. And you will apologize to your mother. She is in quite a state."_

_"Yes sir," Cadoc agreed, and followed his father's great shadow out of the dark, little room._

* * *

He had drifted through blackness and pain for what seemed like days, weeks, seconds, and then he was floating down, down, back into memory. Everything was jumbled, flashes of faces and words and sensation, half remembered dreams. Finally, after a brief eternity, wakefulness began to slip in. It began as no more than mumbling voices, muffled sounds that Cadoc could not reach. He was trapped and could not find a way out.

He felt as though he existed in that state forever, half awake, screaming in his own mind. Then, the veil lifted and all the pain that had been dulled by unconsciousness flooded his senses in a great whoosh. Cadoc grunted, quietly, the first noise he had made in days, and slowly lifted the heavy lid of his remaining eye.

At first, he could not make sense of what he was seeing. Who was this pale woman leaning over him? Wait, was this Lady Éowyn? And Lord Faramir behind her? He was saying something, but the ringing in Cadoc's ears blotted him out. Slowly, the memory of the last hours before he lost consciousness returned.

A horrible, desperate terror crept over him. Where was his wife?

Éowyn almost didn't hear the noise at first, it was so quiet. "What was that?" she asked, turning towards Faramir, who had taken a seat behind her. He was idly watching the play of dappled light outside.

"Hm?" he grunted, turning towards her.

"Did you say something?"

"Not at all," Faramir told her.

Again she herd it, a rasping, breathy whisper, and Éowyn fixed her attention on the man in her care. Cadoc's eye was open, half lidded and glassy, but open. He was looking at her, his lips moving – just barely.

"Cadoc…" Éowyn called to him, leaning just above his face so she could hear him better. There was a shifting behind her, and she did not need to turn to know her husband was looking over her shoulder.

"Rukhash…" Cadoc breathed, blinking slowly, "…where?"

"She is nearby," Éowyn confirmed, and he visibly relaxed.

"Hurt?"

"Yes, you are very hurt," Éowyn told him.

He shook his head, marginally, which was about as much as he could move at the moment. "No," he sighed. "Is Rukhash… hurt?"

"She is unharmed," Faramir told him. "She went looking for plants to help heal you. I will fetch her now."

Cadoc reached out to grab anything, and caught Lady Éowyn's wrist. "Wait!" she called, halting Faramir. "What is is, Cadoc?" she asked, sensing he had something more to say.

"Thraangzi?" he croaked, his face pained.

"He is dead," Faramir told him. He would have thought that knowledge would help Cadoc relax, but the man seemed even more pained.

"How?" Cadoc asked.

" _I took care'a it._ "

Rukhash was standing at the entrance of the cave. The glaring light outside cast her face mostly in shadow, but Cadoc could make out her yellow eyes, bright in the gloom. He looked for accusation there, for hate, but all he saw was relief.

She was holding something, a large bundle of flowering stems. She dropped them as she crossed the distance to kneel at his side. Before he could say anything more, she was leaning over him, pressing her forehead to his. "You bloody bastard," she sobbed, "I'd deck you fer makin' me worry like 'is if ya weren't so tore up already."

Cadoc ignored the searing pain along his ribs and reached up to cup her face. He kissed her, briefly and desperately, afraid to let her go. "I'm sorry," he told her, and hoped she realized it was for more than making her worry.

Her jaw tensed in the familiar way it did when she was forcing back emotion. "Not here," she whispered for him alone, her eyes darting behind her, and Cadoc realized they had acquired an audience. Not just Hedon, Lady Éowyn and Lord Faramir, but many of the men he had served with over the years had clustered into that cave, all of them sporting the same, astonished look on their faces.

Cadoc hoped that Rukhash wasn't trying to keep their relationship a secret, because he had certainly just ruined that.

Startled, Cadoc caught Rukhash's gaze. "They know," she said under her breath. " _Nar iistutob foshânizubu_ ," she added. He nodded at that. Cadoc would not question her desire to keep quiet about the baby, though he felt it was becoming somewhat apparent that she was pregnant. Then again, these men did not know her as he did; they probably could not notice the difference.

"I am relieved you are well, Cadoc," Lord Faramir's voice broke through their private moment.

Cadoc focused his attention on his lord, but did not release Rukhash's hand. He could not discern the prince's expression. "As am I, my Lord," Cadoc replied, anxious. He wished he knew what transpired while he slept.

"When you are up for it, I do have a few questions for you," Faramir informed him. Cadoc nodded dumbly in reply. "For now," he added, glancing at the orcess at Cadoc's side, " I would prefer you rest and recover yourself."

Faramir ushered the rangers that had gathered out. A few men bade Cadoc well wishes before leaving him alone with Rukhash. Though they remained just outside, at the moment, it felt to Cadoc as if he and Rukhash were the only souls here.

Rukhash sneezed viciously.

"Bless you," Cadoc said, off handedly. "I hope you will tell me what is going on."

"Course I will!" his wife snorted. "But first I'm cleanin' this  _skûmaath_  off yer chest before I sneeze my bleedin' nose off."

* * *

**Translations**

_Nar iistutob foshânizubu: (orcish, Shadowlandian)_ They do not know about our baby.

_skûmaath:_ Athelas


	45. A Man's Heart

**Splint**

**Chapter Forty-five: A Man's Heart**

_**AN:** _ _Fair warning: This chapter contains some minor sexual content in the flashback._

* * *

They had been trained together, fought together,  _bled_  together, known each other for two decades, and Calon could not remember a moment in all that time when he had been as upset with Rivalon as he was now. It was not as though he immediately developed an unfounded, immediate loyalty to the orcess. She seemed sad, and troubled – weighed down by recent events – and Calon pitied her. No, this was more fundamental than that. Rivalon had promised to mind himself, then promptly did the opposite; helping to incite the orc woman to near hysterics. When he realized Rivalon was no longer in camp, after Hedon and Rukhash left, Calon went immediately to look for him.

When it came to orcs, Rivalon's animosity was wholly founded, but he was a grown man, a loyal servant of Gondor; Lord Faramir had given them all an  _order_. More than that, Cadoc was a close friend, an ally to Calon and Rivalon in more ways than one. Backing him in this moment was something they  _should_  be doing.

He found Rivalon halfway down the base of the cliff, concealed in a thicket of young ash trees. A good distance away, completely unaware that she was being watched, Rukhash was hard at work harvesting the long, green stalks of a mullein plant. What she wanted with those, Calon had no idea. He  _did_  know that Rivalon had no reason to be out here. Hedon was with orc, so there was no danger to her here. Except, perhaps, Rivalon.

The look on his partner's face frightened Calon. He had never seen the man so darkly  _obsessed_ in all the years he had known him. Calon knew Rivalon hated orcs, but he never realized he hated them quite  _this much_.

"Rivalon," Calon called his attention.

He turned, cooly regarding Calon for a moment. "I knew you would come looking for me."

Calon quietly ground his teeth. "What are you doing here, watching her? I thought we talked about this already."

"We did," Rivalon conceded, his attention back on the orcess, his eyes dark as a summer storm.

Approaching his grim partner where he stood like a vengeful sentinel, Calon took the taller man's shoulder and turned him, forcing Rivalon to look at him. "What do you think this will accomplish?"

There was a war being waged inside him, Calon could tell that much. With a steadying breath, Rivalon shut his eyes. "I  _want_  to hear your words, Calon," he whispered. "I  _want_  to look at that orcess and simply see an odd looking... woman of some kind, but I  _cannot_. I am not even sure it is right for us to allow her to touch him as she does... not while he is still asleep."

"Rivalon..." Calon glanced down toward Hedon and Rukhash as they made their way back up the cliff. He was relieved they would not pass by the small copse of trees where Rivalon had hidden himself.

"An orc, Calon. It is an  _orc_!" Rivalon's voice was gaining in volume and Calon was relieved Hedon and Rukhash were well outside of earshot. "How often have we seen their barbarism? They eat the dead. They eat  _their own_  dead. You heard what she said; she can smell fear! They are not  _human_ , Calon; they are monsters. Cadoc cannot love that  _thing_. Hedon must be mistaken."

"Of all the people to mistake such a thing, Hedon would not be one of them," Calon argued hotly. "He trusts their kind least of all. He said so just yesterday! And look how he defends her now. I have spoken to her, Rivalon. She is short tempered, but hardly a  _monster_. Considering what she has been through-"

"Maybe the rumors about her are true," Rivalon hissed, interrupting. "Perhaps she  _is_  a witch. Look how quickly everyone  _accepts_  her! Even you."

He was almost dizzy listening to that kind of logic. Calon grasped Rivalon's forearms, willing his own calm into him. "I have never seen you like this, not in all our years together," he said. "You are a reasonable, thoughtful man. Certainly, all of the evidence points in the orcess's favor. A little mistrust on your part, I could understand, but Rivalon, this is paranoia.  _Listen_  to yourself, will you? You sound like Dellon's ravings. What is she doing? Nothing! She is terrified of us, and still she remains with Cadoc. She killed her own kind to save his life, and do not tell me that she didn't. Because I would ask  _who else_  killed those orcs besides her?"

"Tell me I am wrong," Calon challenged, his jaw firm.

Rivalon's fierce rage faltered under Calon's scrutiny. The firm line of his mouth wavered. "I look at her," he whispered, "and all I can do is  _remember_."

"I know," Calon said softly. "But try to  _see_  instead. Please, Rivalon; for me and for Cadoc. He loves that orc. He would not be all the way out here if he didn't. You saw his letter of resignation. You heard Hedon's words to confirm it. Cadoc wants to spend his life with her. Shouldn't we be happy for him, as he was for  _us_."

"Cadoc faces enough animosity for his choice," Calon pressed. "He should not face it from his friends as well. Look how many have already abandoned him."

Faramir's honor guard consisted of more than just eleven men, but many of those men chose not to accompany their lord on this mission. Much like Rivalon, most could not bear the thought of it.

"I know you are right, Calon," Rivalon sighed. "Everything you have said is completely sensible, and when we are standing together, when that  _thing_  is not right in front of me, I recognize them as truth..." He took a shuddering breath. "Perhaps I should avoid her while we remain in their company."

Calon nodded, seeing the sense in that. "Maybe you should," he agreed, sad but understanding. There were things in his past Rivalon could not forgive, and Calon wasn't sure it was fair to ask such a thing of him; no matter how much they owed Cadoc for keeping their secret.

His hands still grasping Rivalon's shoulders, Calon laid a light, chaste kiss on his lover's mouth. "I do not want to argue with you," he said quietly.

Laying his forehead against Calon's, Rivalon sighed. "Nor I you," he agreed, "but in the future, when I tell you I would rather not do something, perhaps you will not harangue me until I agree."

"That is fair," Calon said, stepping back from him.

A bright voice broke through the stillness of the moment. "Ahoy, ladies! I don't mean to interrupt."

Rivalon glared at the young, light haired ranger approaching from the direction of camp. "Donir," he growled. "You are  _not_  amusing."

"Here now," Donir said grinning like a fox, "I meant no offense. I prefer my bed partners soft and small. How much more of a man are you, that you prefer another man!"

That little jab did not injure Calon, but it did make him angry. In a blink, he snatched Donir by the nape of his neck, squeezing hard. "You are too loose with your tongue cousin!" he hissed. "You told me you would say nothing of it!"

With a grunt, he batted Calon's hand away and rolled his eyes. "And I haven't said a word," Donir assured the older pair. "No one is near. Everyone is back at camp."

"You cannot know that," Rivalon huffed.

"But I  _do,_ " Donir insisted. "It is far more interesting up there at the moment."

"Why is that?" Calon asked, sharing a suspicious look with his partner.

"Because," Donir replied with a cheeky smile, " Cadoc has just woken up."

* * *

_The Ranger's station in southern Emyn Arnen was quiet in the space between seasonal occupancy. Six years after the war, the region was safe enough that, in the few weeks after the fall and winter regiments left and before the spring and summer regiment settled in, it could be held with fewer than ten men. This year it was being held by five, and it was Calon and Rivalon's night off of guard duty._

_They shared a small supper, retired early and Calon had Rivalon against the wall – his knee between the taller man's legs – as soon as the door to their quarters shut. Normally, they would share the small, two bunk room with another pair of men. Then, the most intimacy they were afforded was the occasional brush of fingers. Just before sleep claimed them, Rivalon would let his hand dangle down the far side of the bed and Calon would clasp it desperately, hoping they would be sent on a long, easy mission by themselves._

_That long, easy mission never did come, but being year round occupants at a relatively safe ranger's station did afford them some privacy in the still moments between the major fighting seasons. It wasn't as if they had a household to go back to, as most of the other men did. They had talked recently of buying their own land somewhere out of the way, a place to go home to, but had never done much about it besides talk._

_And maybe, in the quiet after, when they lay tangled together in the darkness, they would talk about it again. After Calon was finished trailing his tongue along the, rough gooseflesh on Rivalon's throat; after his lover's calloused hands had stripped off what remained of his shirt; after the heated, frenzied coupling that marked their first evening blissfully_ alone _._

_Calon fumbled quickly with buttons as he hurried to undo Rivalon's shirt, as though he were being pursued, as though they did not have all night. Then his mouth was trailing down Rivalon's chest, his stomach, while his partner eagerly urged him further with a gentle, firm push on his shoulders. In that heady, excruciating moment – just before his mouth reached its destination, one hand buried between Rivalon's legs while the other reached for his own arousal – the door opened._

_Calon froze like a terrified rabbit as he stared at the blinking face of their captain. That moment had the effect of being dunked bodily into the Anduin River in the dead of winter. Though it was dark as night in the room, the hallway was light enough. Light enough for Calon to recognize it was Cadoc, weighed down by travel gear, standing in the doorway. Light enough for Cadoc to see, quite clearly, what it was Calon and Rivalon were up to in that pitch dark room._

_A breathless second passed in which Cadoc's face registered confusion, shock, embarrassment and shock again. Then, he shut the door and his boots thudded back down the hallway from whence he came._

_Whatever spell had frozen them was then released, and both men jumped away from each other as though they were burned. Rivalon uttered a swear so profane, Calon flushed. "I will speak with him," Calon said unsteadily as he threw his shirt back over his head._

_"I will come with you," Rivalon insisted, sounding pained._

_Calon took one look at him, as he buttoned back up, and nearly laughed, feeling hysterical. "I think you should take care of_ that _first," Calon suggested, gesturing towards the obscene tent in Rivalon's trousers. A strangled, frustrated sound came from the man's throat._

_"Do what you must," Calon told him as he opened the door just wide enough to slip through. "I will speak with him before he mentions anything to someone else. Perhaps I can talk him into keeping this quiet." Calon did not wait for Rivalon's approval before striding down the hallway in search of Cadoc._

_This was bad. Very bad. How could they be so careless? They did not even bar the door! And what was Cadoc doing here? He should not be arriving for another few weeks, when the rest of the warm weather regiment was due in._

_As he approached the main room, Calon tried to remember if Cadoc had ever made any off color comments or if he had shown any animosity towards men with similar persuasions, and couldn't recall an instance. While that was somewhat heartening,Calon could not say he knew Cadoc well. They were near the same age; had trained around the same time and been in the same battles; Cadoc, a few years older, had been their captain for the past five years, and led them on many successful patrols; but their relationship was limited to the time they spent fighting together. He knew Cadoc, like just about every other man in his mid thirties among the rangers, had a wife and a child, a son; Calon could recall a few anecdotal stories, but not much more than that. The truth was, he did not know how his captain was going to react, and he was terrified._

_The main room in the barracks was long and narrow, with a wide hearth on the far wall and three tall, narrow windows opposite of that. A wooden table and simple benches , filled half the length. The far corner sported several cupboards stocked with long standing rations and trunks filled with various spares: spare blankets, spare sheets, spare clothes, spare bandages, spare medicine. A ranging station was a halfway house for the men that patrolled Ithilien and Southern Gondor. A place for them to stop and rest and heal in between missions. It was neither spacious and comfortable, nor was it inhospitable. The main room was warm and inviting, and Calon had spent many nights here in song and respite and fellowship with his comrades after particularly troubling missions._

_Tonight the room was quiet except for the crackling fire and its lone occupant. Cadoc sat with his back to the hearth. There was a clear bottle half full of some liquor on the table – men were always stashing various bottles of communal swill in the cupboards. Cadoc poured himself a generous glass that would probably strip the lining from his stomach._

_Calon hesitantly entered, hovering at the doorway. His captain glanced at him briefly before downing his glass._

_Relieved Cadoc seemed relatively calm, if not a little red-faced, Calon took a seat across from him. Only then did he see the two other glasses set out. Cadoc poured him a portion and slid it towards him. "When we are done with this bottle," Cadoc said lightly, " I think we will be able to light fires with our breath."_

_"You are drunk," Calon observed._

_"Not drunk enough," Cadoc argued and then nodded towards Calon's drink. "And I should not like to drink alone."_

_Calon swirled the amber liquid before swallowing it in one go. It burned the whole way down. "Captain," Calon said, nervous, "about what you saw-"_

_"I apologize," Cadoc cut in. "Ingrid was always telling me I should learn to knock..."_

_"I'd very much appreciate if you would not mention this to anyone," Calon pressed._

_His captain regarded him for a moment, his eyes clear, and Calon realized he was really not so drunk as first suspected. "I am not blind to the world, Calon," Cadoc replied. "And it has never been my practice to spread idle gossip."_

_"I never thought that it was," Calon stammered. "It is only... Rivalon and I have managed to keep this very discreet, and we would like to continue in this manner. You were there, weren't you, sir? When Denethor hung his guardsman from the second gate..."_

_"I was not, but I heard about it after," the captain said quietly. "Though, I am not sure you should have fear of that. Lord Faramir is not his father-"_

_"Even so, sir," Calon interrupted. "We would just as well keep it to ourselves. We have worked hard for our positions."_

_"It will be as you say," Cadoc said, his palm raised. "You have fought at my back for nearly two decades. Who you take to your bed is none of my business, Calon. We need not speak on it any further. You have my silence. "_

_"And please," he added "we are not on a mission. You may call me Cadoc."_

_Calon felt the dread drain from him in a great wave. "Thank you, Cadoc."_

_"You are back early, sir," Rivalon's dry tone sounded from across the room._

_Cadoc shrugged with a knowing half smile and raised the bottle as though it were a question. "Drink?"_

_"Gracious Valar, yes," Rivalon breathed._

_As he poured Rivalon a glass and freshened his own and Calon's, Cadoc regarded both men curiously. "Should I congratulate you both?"_

_"On what?" Calon asked, baffled._

_He gestured to them. "This... well, that you are together."_

_A blinking, unbelieving moment passed between the two lovers. This was easily the easiest someone had taken this revelation. Recovering himself, Rivalon huffed quietly. "You are four years too late for that."_

_"Is that so?" Cadoc said, sounding surprised. "Indeed, you_ have  _been discreet. No matter," he raised his glass towards them. "A belated congratulations, and many happy returns." He downed the alcohol as quickly as he had polished the previous glass._

_Amused, Calon sipped his drink cautiously. "I wish my father took the news half as well as you just have."_

_"Or my sister's husband," Rivalon added._

_"I assure you, I would have preferred to find out... any other way besides that!" Cadoc laughed. "But my village's healer is of a similar preference, and he has long been a friend of my family. You are not the only couple such as yourselves in the world."_

_Rivalon gaped a bit at that. "Do people know about him?"_

_"It is a small village," Cadoc said, "but to say it is general knowledge would be untrue. My family knows. We saw a great deal of Auron when my father was ill, and after he died... Well, Auron and his late partner, Limdir, were the ones to help my mother most. I was only ten at the time, and my sister was just born. Two children on a laundress's salary," Cadoc shook his head. "I do not think we would have gotten along without their help."_

_A forlorn look passed over him, before Cadoc shook himself back into the present. "But, like you both, Auron has never flaunted his proclivities, though I am sure most suspect the truth, even if they do not know it for certain. Attitudes towards such pairings are a little more relaxed where I am from then they are here in Ithilien, but we are not without our bigots. There are few people in Lamedon, and so we have fewer of them."_

_"Well," Calon said, "I am glad_ you  _are not one of them."_

_"You love who you love," Cadoc said , his voice sad and far away. "Just... lock the door next time, will you? I am relieved you were both mostly dressed, but I wouldn't want to catch anyone with their pants off, no matter who they were with, or even if they were alone. I nearly died of embarrassment!"_

_"Good!" Rivalon huffed. "So did we."_

_"I apologize again, for barging in," Cadoc said, contrite. "I didn't think..." he trailed off and sighed, looking away. "I didn't think," he said._

_Calon waved him off. "It is of no consequence now. Though I am curious as to why you've decided to grace us with your presence so early in the season."_

_"I wondered the same," agreed Rivalon as he refilled all the glasses, "and without Hedon shadowing you besides."_

_There was a general shift in Cadoc's entire mood. Gripping his glass unnecessarily tight, he frowned deeply. "I did not want to be there for the wedding."_

_Calon and Rivalon shared a confused look "Who's wedding?"_

_Cadoc's voice was thick with bitterness, "My wife's- my_ ex _-wife's wedding. I suppose she thought she was being civil, but the mere thought of it makes me physically ill."_

_The corner's of Cadoc's eyes nearly glowed with murderous pinpricks. "We were_ just _divorced!" he growled, pounding his fist on the table. "Just this autumn she handed me papers and asked for her freedom. Now I find she has been involved with this... other man... for nearly a year!" He shut his eyes briefly in an attempt to rein in his temper. With a deep breath he said, "I beg pardon. I do not desire to talk about this. We can discuss_ anything _else."_

_"I'm sorry, sir," Calon whispered. He felt as though he should have known something was wrong, but then, he had never been close enough to Cadoc to discern the subtleties of his moods._

_Grim faced, Rivalon stood and went to the far cupboard. He returned with a bottle of pre-war, barrel aged whiskey. It was an expensive blend, one they had been saving for some unnamed, special occasion._

_"If we are going to get as drunk as I imagine we are going to get," Rivalon said cooly, "we should be drinking a better vintage than that swill you keep pouring us."_

_Cadoc laughed as Rivalon emptied their glasses and refilled them with the better liquor. "I would not dream to argue such well thought out logic," he conceded._

_Calon learned more about his captain in the span of that evening than in all the years he had joined him in battle. They steered their topics clear of Cadoc's recent divorce, though occasionally, during a discourse that went well into the night, the captain would stare dully into the fire, his eyes shimmering and distant. But it would only last a moment before he shook the mood off and continued with their conversation._

_They poured him into a bunk in one of the unoccupied rooms before retiring to their own room, too inebriated to do much more than collapse into bed._

_"He is badly wounded," Rivalon said, quiet, as he stared dully at the underside of the bunk above them._

_They had arranged themselves awkwardly on the bottom bed, half draped over one another. Calon cleaved closer to Rivalon's side, happy despite their uncomfortable arrangement. "I would think so," he replied sleepily. "Cadoc has been married since before the War. If I were him, I would feel very betrayed."_

_Rivalon regarded him seriously then, his eyes dark in the gloom. "You will never be in the position he is in," he said solemnly._

_In their years together, they had never discussed fidelity. It seemed as though their one night stand led to regular nights together and before they knew it, they were a pair. Even their discussions about the future – their home together – were oddly intangible, speculative conversations._

_But in that moment, Calon realized that he could not imagine a future_ without  _Rivalon in it. "And neither will you." He kissed him soundly, mingling tongues. Unfortunately, the swell of emotion Calon felt was not enough to undo the effects of alcohol._

_Resting his head back on his lover's chest, Calon sighed with a mixture of longing and contentment. "I love you," he said simply, closing his eyes._

_Rivalon's hand strayed in his hair. "And I, you, Calon," he breathed._

__

_They gained a sympathetic colleague that night. Even from Hedon, Cadoc kept their secret, and more, found ways to do them small kindnesses. They did not have roommates assigned to their quarters until late in the season, when the station was starting to fill up. Their captain made sure that they were on the same patrols, so they would not be parted and distracted with worry._

_All Cadoc asked was that they kept their wits about them when they were working, and that was something Calon and Rivalon would have done whether it was requested of them or not._

* * *

The low, Sindarin conversations floating around camp were like a murmuring buzz. Gathered in the same ring in which they ate breakfast, the rangers, along with Lady Éowyn and Lord Faramir, were discussing the two occupants of the cavern. Tuluston, Oreldir and Celebas were gathered in a grim trio. They looked a little disturbed, in Calon's opinion. Lord Faramir, Uialon, Belegorn and Míron seemed quietly amused.

Hedon sat alone, leaning against the rocky mouth of the cave, as though he were Cadoc and Rukhash's protector.  _And maybe he is_ , Calon thought. Attitudes in the group seemed to range from scandalized to astonishment to troubled. Calon was not sure why everyone was so excitable. They all knew that Cadoc and the orc were a couple before they even came on this trip.

Donir went to join the group gathered around Lord Faramir. With sure steps, Calon crossed the span of camp and took a seat next to Hedon. Reluctantly, Rivalon followed him.

"How is he?" Calon asked the large, younger ranger.

"He is resting," Hedon replied dryly. "Rukhash is explaining our presence, and what has transpired while he slept."

"You can hear what they are saying?" Rivalon queried in a suspicious tone.

"I can hear enough to know what they are discussing," Hedon replied dryly. Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head back against the rocky ledge.

"What now?" Rivalon asked, glancing at Calon.

With a shrug, Calon followed Hedon's lead. His short night was starting to catch up to him. "I suppose we wait," he said.

* * *

"So they showed up a day ago?" Cadoc asked, though he was really just repeating what Rukhash had told him already.

She was ringing out the rag she used to wipe the crushed Athelas from his chest, sniffling with remnants of her allergy. Grabbing the long plant stalks she had gathered, she began twisting them in her calloused hands, releasing liquid from the stems. "Yea, yea," she sighed, sounding tired.

"They are wearing you out," Cadoc observed.

With an enduring little smile, she rubbed some of the light smelling liquid on his throat. "Yer friends're a pain in my arse," she said. "I ain't never complainin' 'bout Hedon again. Him'n me, we're chums from this point on."

"You've never complained about Hedon," Cadoc argued.

"Not to yer face."

With a knowing smile, Cadoc took her hand, stilling her movement. "I am glad you two are getting along," he said, honestly pleased. He would have to thank Hedon for his patient help over the past day.

"Yea, yea," Rukhash rumbled. "He's a loyal bloke. Can't fault 'im on that."

"Rukhash..." Cadoc started, unsure of how to discuss this, but knowing they must, "...about Thraangzi-"

"Don't, Cadoc," she cut him off. Reaching out, she pressed her hand against his cheek. "What happened between you an' him happened between you an' him. I gave 'im a shot. I told 'im to sod off or else an' he picked 'or else.' Whatever you done don't matter. I'da made the same choice whether you killed 'is sprogs fer a fair reason or whether ya killed 'em fer sport."

"I did not kill them for  _sport_ ," Cadoc interjected.

"I know," she said, her voice soft and weary. "I know ya didn't. But I'm sayin' it don't matter either way. You're my  _shaûk_ , Cadoc; my  _brogûrzum_. It's you before anyone else, even my brother, no matter what you done."

Cadoc was not sure what to say to that. It was obvious to him that she was not so cold blooded to be completely unaffected by what had happened between her and her brother. There was a sadness in her that he had not seen since he first met her. Reaching out, he laid his palm over the soft swell of her abdomen. "I cannot bear to know you are in pain," he told her, angry at himself for hurting her, for being responsible for this tangible sorrow in her.

A few fat tears snuck out of the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away with a sniff. "This sprog's makin' a waterfall outta me," she said with a breathy laugh and pressed his hand more tightly against her belly. "I blame you fer that."

"But I ain't sure I can blame ya fer the rest'a it," she admitted. "I know you, my Cadoc. I know what it were you did afore ya met me, an' I ain't sure I wanna know what Thraangzi were up ta 'at caught yer attention. I wanna remember 'im like I did before this. I wanna think on him as the older brother what looked after me since I were a little brat, not the brother that I had ta kill fer hurtin' my  _shaûk_  like 'e did." Her lip quivered. "You ain't never seein' outta that eye again," she sobbed.

"I thought as much," he said softly, and maneuvered his hand so he was clutching hers. "Please do not cry, Rukhash," he begged. "I cannot bear it."

He pulled her to lay down alongside him and held her while she wept quietly, tucked against his side. It hurt. His ribs were killing him. But Cadoc ignored the pain. Thraangzi had made threats against her that would most like change her opinion of him completely, but Cadoc would never tell Rukhash what her brother said to him. Better that she grieve Thraangzi and remember him fondly after. Cadoc would endure whatever blame she might one day place on him for his part, so long as he could spare her that agony.

Shutting his eyes, Cadoc breathed deeply, taking in the subtle, earthy scent of her hair and skin, relieved to have her close and safe. Rukhash had stilled, but did not seem inclined to move. They lay like that for a long while, content to be together.

* * *

**Translations**

_brogûrzum_ : favorite


	46. Interlude

**Splint**

**Chapter Forty-six: Interlude**

* * *

Where she was cradled against Cadoc, she was warm, but the cold stone floor began to leech the warmth from everywhere else, leaving her achy. She had dozed off at some point during her weeping, and Cadoc must have as well, because he jerked awake and subsequently woke her. Glancing outside, she was startled to find that the shadows had grown long and dark. She could not believe that she slept so long! There were fewer men about camp. She counted three, one of which was Lord Faramir. Their lessened numbers made her feel easier. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes, stretching, and the spog fluttered merrily, also awake. Rukhash patted her small bump with an affectionate smile. Her stomach rumbled audibly.

Cadoc grinned at her. Since her queasiness had passed, Rukhash had been utterly voracious. "Hungry?" he queried lightly.

"Shaddup," she grumbled and poked his arm. He was still lying down, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. "How much're you hurtin'?" she asked knowingly.

"It is what woke me up," Cadoc admitted. Though his burns throbbed, especially his eye, his worst pain was the bruising his ribs had taken. They woke him up on several occasions during the course of the day; Cadoc simply hadn't the heart to wake his wife to tend them. He had bruised his ribs before. Unless orcs had discovered some secret to their healing that the rest of the world had not, there wasn't much Rukhash could do for him except manage the pain he was in.

It seemed management was her plan. Rukhash sorted through some unfamiliar bags. After a few, curious sniffs at containers and several, desperate sneezes, she finally produced a large glass canister filled with a fine white powder. Cadoc had seen that type of medicine before in a healer's tent. It was a kind of pain killer.

"What are you doing?" Eowyn's voice snapped from the entrance. Caoc glanced from her annoyed face to where his wife knelt calmly by the strange saddlebags and inwardly sighed. He doubted Lady Éowyn was accustomed to the orcish habit of sniffing through anything they came across.

"I'm diggin' through yer stuff," Rukhash answered her, nonplussed. "Cadoc's hurtin' and this should take care of 'im."

Éowyn approached the orcess in three brisque strides. "You cannot go rifling through other people's belongings!"

Rukhash stood and glared at the taller Rohirrim woman. "Well, I just  _did_ ," she challenged.

Very sure he had never seen Lady Éowyn so furious, Cadoc made a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation. "Please, my lady," Cadoc beseeched, "Rukhash meant no harm. She is only concerned for my comfort." Regarding his wife's aggressive posture, Cadoc delicately switched languages. " _Azat ushumlab,_ " he rumbled at her.

" _Nar!_ " the orcess barked, thrusting her thumb in Éowyn's direction. " _Kulir laglizub tiil_."

Exasperated and annoyed, Éowyn looked from the ranger who was spouting orcish to the orc fuming in front of her.

She had checked in several times during the day to be sure Cadoc was breathing well and had felt a strange swell of pity for the pair of them. Seeing them lying in each other's arms, it was easy to imagine their exhaustion under the weight their situation. The orcess, especially, looked cowed by it, and Éowyn found her sympathies going out to this strange, disconcerting orc woman. She had promised herself she would make an attempt to treat the orcess with more civility.

But this was too much! Having her medicine kit gone through without her permission was simply insulting. And now the orcess was challenging her directly. Éowyn didn't know where this newfound rebelliousness came from, but it was deeply unsettling. The last thing she wanted was an angry orc in her face.

Cadoc seemed determined to keep things under control. "Rukhash," he pleaded, his voice soft, " _lup-izg_."

Turning from the objective of her ire to the man that claimed her as his wife, the orcess promptly burst into tears. Éowyn had no idea what to do, standing with a dumbfounded expression. A moment ago the orc seemed ready to tear out someone's throat, and now she wept helplessly, practically shaking. Éowyn wondered what the ranger had said to her.

Fixing Rukhash with a knowing look, Cadoc forced himself to sit up, his whole face contorting in pain. The sheer exertion of that small act had him perspiring, but he ignored his body completely as he reached out to take the orcess's clawed hand and pull her towards him. "Please, do not cry," he begged as he pulled her to kneel next to him.

" _Rukhash nargazab Cadoc ghurn urzkû_ ," the orcess blubbered against his shoulder.

"I know," Cadoc said, drawing the orc closer.

" _Gotlizish_ ," she pleaded.

"Do not apologize," he said. "You have nothing to be sorry about." Frowning, Éowyn might have politely argued that point, except that the orcess did not seem to be asking for  _her_  forgiveness.

"You shouldn't be sitting up," Éowyn noted lamely, feeling useless at this moment. She should have heeded her husband and stayed outside when she noticed movement in the cavern. Thinking of Faramir had her swiveling around to check his whereabouts.

He was directly at the mouth of the cave, his expression full of grim concern. "I hope all is well in here."

Feeling oddly guilty, Éowyn floundered. "It's just… I wish she would have asked first."

A low growl caught her attention. "Can I use yer  _medicines_  ta help with Cadoc's pain?" the orc asked, though it was barely concealed anger, not a request, that Éowy heard in the she orc's voice. She had already helped the ranger to lay back down.

"Of course –" Éowyn began, but the orcess didn't wait to hear what else she had to say. Rising immediately to her feet, she snatched the teapot from where it leaned in a corner and stormed out of the cave with the obvious intent of procuring water. Catching herself before she could be surprised, Éowyn realized that the orc most likely knew the preparation of this kind of medicine from her own work as a healer. Perhaps orcs possessed something similar.

Blinking at the orc's retreating back, Éowyn turned towards Cadoc. "Your orc is a frustrating creature!" she admitted.

"Rukhash," the man corrected.

"What?"

Before he could smooth it away, a look of insult passed over him and he said, "She has a name of her own. I would very much appreciate it if my lady would not refer to her as my 'orc',  _or_ ," he added in a displeased tone, "a 'creature'."

"I apologize," Éowyn said. "I certainly meant her no offense..." A gentle hand was on her shoulder and Éowyn felt herself straighten. She always felt sturdier with Faramir at her side.

"Perhaps you might see if Rukhash requires your assistance," he suggested. "If Cadoc feels up to it, I would like to have a brief conversation with him in private." Cadoc nodded and Éowyn drooped as she left the pair of them to their discussion, feeling petulant. She was in no mood to help that orc with anything. A more emotional female she had not met in all her life! Even at her most pregnant, Éowyn had never been so weepy or mopey or violently unpredictable.

Frowning at that thought, Éowyn realized she had almost completely forgotten about the orcess's condition. It was just too easy to focus on what she  _was_. A few of the men had already noted her "frumpy" figure with wry amusement, thinking it was a matter of her build. Éowyn guessed the she orc must be starting in on her second trimester. As a healer and a midwife, she should probably offer the orcess a cursory examination, as horrifying a thought as  _that_  was. Still, no matter how skilled Hedon claimed her to be, it was something Rukhash could not do for herself. Considering the harrowing experiences the orc had been through, there were a number of complications that could spring up because of over exertion, and it was better to catch them early in case bed rest was needed.

An offer to aid Rukhash in her pregnancy might be viewed as an act of kindness, and help to warm the orc to her, but Éowyn wasn't so sure how much she wanted to be involved in that aspect of this venture. Half orcs were, at worst, considered abominations or, at best, looked upon with pity. Cadoc and Rukhash's offspring would have no place in the world. If there was an issue with the orcess's pregnancy, it might be kinder to let the thing go.

Passing through the tents, Éowyn paused as the orcess came into sight. Facing Rukhash's back as she crouched by the river to rinse and fill the kettle, Éowyn was suddenly struck by how mannish she looked. From behind, with none of her more disquieting features showing, Rukhash could easily be a black skinned Woman. A similar thought had passed through Éowyn's mind when she observed the orcess as she slept in Cadoc's arms. With those unnatural eyes closed, the rougher aspects of her visage were less troubling.

 _She cannot help what she is_ , Faramir had said that afternoon to the Men who were most troubled by Cadoc and the orc's reunion kiss. And really, what was she? An orc, yes, but also a pregnant woman. Her wild mood swings were nothing more than her own body's struggle with the pregnancy; her discomfort and nervousness an understandable response to being surrounded by people that were formerly enemies. Éowyn suddenly imagined herself in the orc's place: pregnant with only an injured Faramir for comfort among a group of strange men that she did not trust with her person, and somewhere out there, men were hunting her with a fervent passion.

"I am sorry," Éowyn said and blinked with surprise. Had she spoken that aloud?

Turning, the orcess's face screwed up as if she intended to say something scathing, but she stopped herself, searching Éowyn's features. Her own scowl softened to something weary and accepting. "Eh," she said with a shrug. "I'm gettin' used to it."

"But still," Éowyn pressed before she could leave, "I have not given you much of a chance. I have been… remarkably unfair." She gestured towards the kettle and added, "Please, let me see to that. You should be with…" Her voice faltered. WHy was this so hard for her to accept? "You should be with your husband."

Rukhash's eyes fell to the ground. "He's havin' a talkin' to," she reminded Éowyn.

"Ah… I suppose he is," she admitted. "Still, let me carry that. You should not overexert yourself." As the orcess passed her the kettle, Éowyn shook her head. "I cannot  _believe_  you went hunting this morning!" she admonished.

Rukhash snorted and rolled her eyes. "I ain't made'a glass," she said and Éowyn smiled a small smile at that.

"I was even worse when I was pregnant with my son," Éowyn told her conspiratorially. "Faramir had to drag me away from the stables. All I wanted to do was ride."

The orcess grinned at that. "Yer a bloody nut," she huffed and stepped past Éowyn to head back to the fire.

"I beg your pardon, I am a nut of no kind!" She was alongside the orcess in a few quick steps and just in time to catch Rukhash laugh, low and rasping.

"I don't know what you horse folk love so much about yer horses. I can say I rode one now, and I don't think I were missin' much. All it did was hurt my arse!"

"They are beautiful and noble creatures," Éowyn said haughtily and ignored Rukhash's indelicate snort.

"They taste better'n they look," the orcess rumbled before realizing what she had just said and to whom. The orcess gaped at Éowyn's horrified expression. "That is…" she stammered and dropped her gaze to stare at her hands. "Nevermind," she hissed and hurried past the tents.

Since Éowyn had the kettle, Rukhash could do nothing more than stand impotently by the fire and wait for the woman to appear. Here, Cadoc needed his medicine and what was she doing? Making a poor job of banter with a woman that hated her. At least no one  _else_  was around to watch her make the fool of herself, though Rukhash was sure that little tidbit of information would make the rounds.

Faramir's pale wife took a moment to emerge from the cover of the camp. With sure steps she placed the kettle on the coals. "You know," she started in a cool manner, "the Mûlrim folk eat horses. Not often, mind you, but not often was still enough to make me very uncomfortable around them at first, even if that practice did stem out of hunger." She stood to her height and leveled Rukhash with an even glare. "It is hard to accept customs that are very different from your own," Éowyn admitted. "It is even harder for me to accept you and yours. There is a part of me that reviles what you are."

The orcess looked as though she had just been struck, and Éowyn quickly clarified her statement. "I say that with no malice towards you as a person, no hatred in my heart for Rukhash as an individual. I know  _you_  very little, so to say it is you I fear, you that I revile is not true. My people suffered greatly at the hands of yours, and it is hard for me to let that go; even now, so many years later. I  _am_   _sorry_  for that, but just as you cannot help what you are, I cannot help what I feel. But I am  _trying_. You are obviously a clever woman; and a resourceful one – considering what we found in that cave; you are a surprisingly knowledgeable healer; a fine hunter; and I cannot wholly blame  _you_ for your wild swings in mood. You certainly cannot help that. If you were not an orc I think… well I imagine I would have warmed to you from the start." Her eyes glimmered by the end of her statement.

"You killed the  _Nazgûl_ Lord," Rukhash stated with quiet awe. "I think 'at's pretty great."

Éowyn laughed a little. "Do you? I thought he was one of your leaders."

"That arsehole," the orcess scoffed. "He were a great big prick is what he were. I would'a loved ta see his face when you… oh... well… you know what I mean."

"I do." Stepping forward, Éowyn extended her hand. "If you are willing to put the past two days behind us and begin again, so am I."

Rukhash stared at the open palm before her. She thought that Lady Éowyn had intended from the beginning to be cruel, but there was a good heaping of bad blood between their folk. Her prejudices were not without foundations. Perhaps it was time to put that bad blood behind them. She took Éowyn's hand, and, for a moment, an orc of Isengard and a woman of Rohirrim stood in friendship.

"That sounds good ta me," Rukhash agreed. Glancing about, she finally had to ask. "So, where is everyone?"

"Here and there," Éowyn replied breezily. "Faramir sent some men down the cliff to feed and guard the horses while others are making rounds, trying to keep busy. They seemed quite bored today." She glanced curiously at the sky. "I suppose Uialon will be back soon. He usually starts supper about now."

Remembering how chores were divided back on Edda's farmstead, Rukhash gave Éowyn a curious look. "You don't cook?"

Éowyn replied with an indelicate snort. "Only if you want food poisoning."

Rukhash decided that she could grow to like Lady Éowyn quite a bit.

* * *

After the women had filed out, Faramir settled next to Cadoc. He regarded the man for a long minute before addressing him. Cadoc's eye was ringed with dark circles and his skin maintained a pallid hue. "How are you feeling, captain?"

A brief, pained smile tugged his lips. "As well as I can, considering…"

"Rukhash has told us that one of the orcs that attacked you was her brother," Faramir informed him.

"That is the truth," Cadoc confirmed. "He was a survivor of that group we discovered a little north of here, on of the Uruk hai that attacked the string of villages on Ithilien's southern border. They were the last pack of their ilk we came across within Gondor."

"Ah," Faramir breathed. "Yes, I do remember that report. And the black uruk?"

"I am not sure who he was or where he came from," Cadoc admitted. "Rukhash did not know him either." A sad look crossed Cadoc's face. "She had mentioned this brother to me on several occasions. Rukhash remembered him fondly. What happened in that cave… it caused her great grief."

"She seems as though she has forgiven you," Faramir observed.

"It does seem that way," Cadoc admitted, though felt no conviction in those words.

"You don't sound very happy about it," Faramir stated.

Cadoc did not know what to say. Though her obvious focus now was the baby, Cadoc remembered Rukhash's staunch refusal to face her grief when it came to the death of her clan, only to have those emotions overwhelm her much later. Cadoc was not sure he was free of her blame. He didn't know if he wanted to be. "She grieves her brother," Cadoc said at last. "I know what I did – stopping that group from doing any more damage – I know that was the right thing to do. But there was an infant among them… I'm not sure if it was Thraangzi's or another's, but still…" Swallowing roughly, Cadoc forced himself to continue. "There is much I regret of that day. And more I regret of the day Rukhash was forced to kill her brother for me."

Faramir nodded. "It was bad business, what happened here. You are both lucky to have survived it. We found bones in that cave, you know. Remains that were easily years old. Those orcs had brought mischief on more than just the pair of you. If I were you, Cadoc, I would not feel too badly that this Thraangzi is dead. You may care for his sister, but that does not make you beholden to such a monster."

Remembering the ugly threats Thraangzi made against Rukhash, Cadoc inwardly shuddered. "I may have to agree with you, my lord."

"So," Faramir stated in a lighter tone, "I hear you have married an orc."

A breathy laugh escaped Cadoc and he winced in pain. "Ah…" he hissed, but waived off the prince when he rose to offer aid. "Please, my lord, I am fine," he assured Faramir. "And yes," he admitted plainly. "I call her my wife. Though we have had no ceremony to confirm it, in my heart we are married."

"And in  _her_ heart?"

"In her heart we are  _shaûk_ ," Cadoc explained, "and I am finally beginning to truly understand what that word means to her."

"Oh?" Faramir asked, curious. "Hedon had referenced it as a kind of bond between orcs."

"It is," Cadoc confirmed. "It is a bond that would pit a sister against her brother to honor it. I cannot remember what transpired in that cave when Rukhash confronted her brother, I was unconscious before she challenged him, but I, know, in my heart, that she did not waver in her defense of me."

"I was quite impressed with that, myself," Faramir admitted.

Cadoc was more than simply impressed. He was awestruck. Could he have made such a sacrifice? He wasn't sure he could. And perhaps that was the ultimate goal for orcs: to choose a  _shaûk_  that would not force such a choice from them. Rukhash was not naive. She had to know what calling a ranger her  _shaûk_  would mean for her future. Why else would she have waited until they suffered through dire circumstances together to make that commitment? Still, she chose him. It was both humbling and an affirmation of his choice.

"You have a fierce look about you," Faramir told him.

"I do not care if all the world calls me traitor," Cadoc told him. "I will choose no other."

A soft look passed over Faramir's eyes and he turned to gaze outside the cave. "I know how you feel," he admitted as he searched out his wife. The flush of evening gave Éowyn's skin a golden hue and the hard shadows made her proud features that much more prominent. Had he known a woman in all his life filled with more audacious nerve? He could not think of one, and felt a familiar pride in his beloved's unique strength.

She was sitting near Rukhash, keeping the orcess company as she watched the kettle boil. They were having an animated conversation, gesturing wildly and grinning at each other. "They seem to be getting along well," Faramir noted, pleased and somewhat surprised. It would seem their frequent discussions about the orcess had finally helped Éowyn move past her unease.

"Indeed," Cadoc said absently, thinking the pair of them looked downright co conspiratorial. "In all honesty, my lord, we should probably keep an eye on that…"

Though Faramir could not hear what Éowyn was saying, Rukhash looked enthralled as his wife leaned back and pounded her fist into her palm with great force. The pair of them fell into a round of insane cackling.

The prince cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I agree."

* * *

**Translations**

_Azat ushumlab_ (trans) back down/ back off

 _Nar!_   _Kulir laglizub tiil_. (trans) No! She's on my last tit.

 _lup-izg_  (lit) I beg (trans) please, I beseech you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my DA account for illustrations of scene and characters from the story! helena-markos.deviantart.com/


	47. Crossroads

**Splint**

**Chapter forty-seven: Crossroads**

* * *

Éowyn was lively company, with tales of far off peoples and places that were quite exciting, but all the while Rukhash was singularly aware that Cadoc's conversation with her  _shaûk_  was stretching on. She only disturbed them once to bring Cadoc the bitter medicine she had prepared to ease his pain. They both grew silent as she passed the threshold of the cavern. Faramir favored her with a polite nod, but a grim shadow was cast on Cadoc's features, and Rukhash returned to Éowyn's side with an uneasy feeling.

When she sat again beside Éowyn, her features were drawn, and the woman must have perceived her fret. "We have not come here to bring you trouble," Éowyn said suddenly. Rukhash blinked at her, and wondered if she knew something of what Faramir and Cadoc were discussing.

"What were it then,"she asked, "that you come here ta bring?" The orcess's eyes were sharp, and her mouth was set into a line of worry.

"Help, of course!" Éowyn said lightly. "We've come to help you. My lord husband has heard of the accusations brought against Cadoc, and he is determined to see things set right. Especially now that it is quite plain that you have not tricked him into this decision."

Rukhash thought Cadoc looked too wearied by his conversation to have been given reassurances. A suspicious feeling nagged at her. "And how do you plan on doin' that, exactly?"

A furtive look passed over her, but Éowyn shook it off easily. "It would be best, don't you think, to bring your case before the King? He is a wise man, and a just man. Surely he will not condemn Cadoc for a choice made freely, or you for the simple act of  _existing_."

A mute shock rooted Rukhash to her place. She stared at Lady Éowyn as if she had just suggested that Rukhash take a dive off of the nearby cliff. "You want that we should go to the White City?" Rukhash asked incredulously. Even as she asked the question, she was overcome with the sheer  _stupidity_  of such a suggestion. It would take nearly a month to reach Minas Tirith from here, even on horseback; and she couldn't ride a horse right now. By the time they reached the city, her condition would be starkly apparent, and how would the people there react to  _that_. Some of the men in Faramir's company were put off by Cadoc's kiss. What would they do if they discovered she was pregnant?

Dimly, Rukhash realized Éowyn was still addressing her. "It would be the wisest course," she affirmed. "King Elessar will clear your husband of this ridiculous charge of treason, and then  _none_ will hunt you."

Rukhash struggled to swallow her indignation. "And what makes you think 'e'll clear Cadoc? Real keen on orcs, is 'e, that King'a yers? 'Cause I heard otherwise. I heard 'e had some law what called for gold ta bring in an orc's head! I heard 'e butchered every orc in his whole damn country!"

Éowyn looked startled. "That was… Well, it was necessary! There were raids and slaughters left and right after the War was done. Whole towns were burned to rubble. Those orcs were nothing like  _you_."

Rukhash jumped to her feet, enraged. " _I ain't no different from any other orc!_ " she shouted and stormed into the cave, leaving Éowyn gaping in her wake.

With an accusing finger pointed at Faramir, she said, "I ain't goin' to no White City. You'll have my head on a pike afore I do somethin' that daft!"

Rising to his feet, Faramir raised his palms to placate her. "I see you Éowyn has informed you of my intentions as I have informed Cadoc of them," he said calmly. "But I had hoped you would receive them better. If it is fear that drives your ire, then I would ask that you put that fear aside! It is not death, but understanding that awaits you at Minas Tirith."

Somehow, Rukhash imagined that a city besieged by an orc army would not have any sympathy for her or Cadoc. She favored Cadoc with a hard look. "You can't be thinkin' ta do this to us! We're here already." She pointed towards the hazy mountains in the distance. "Mordor is right  _there_! I ain't takin' two steps ahead ta fall ten back."

"Rukhash," he started, and she could hear the petition in his voice before it was uttered, "what Lord Faramir is suggesting is not so untoward…"

"Not so 'untoward'?" she raged. "Are you bleeding out of yer skull? Yer gonna drag me back through this shit country so I can sit in front of some bleeding  _tark_  king an' ask 'im 'Pretty please, yer lordship, don't string me up?' I'm done, Cadoc,  _done._ I wanna go  _home_!"

A weary look passed over Cadoc's face as he attempted to beseech her again. "Rukhash…"

" _Nar!_ " she shrieked. "I ain't listenin' ta this no more." The orcess nearly collided with Éowyn as she stormed out of the cave, heedless of Cadoc calling after her. She headed straight into the copse of trees surrounding camp and half down the cliff, her vision blurring with frustrated emotion. The sprog was doing cartwheels in her belly as she shimmied up the tallest tree she could find and nestled herself in a crux of wide branches high off the ground and shielded by thick, glossy leaves, effectively hiding herself from anyone passing below.

* * *

"She has quite the insurmountable temper," Faramir stated evenly as he stared in the direction of the orcess's furious departure.

"It is actually a rather endearing quality," Cadoc admitted, " when it is not pointed in your direction."

Faramir raised a brow at him. "You have an odd notion of 'endearing qualities', my friend."

"I should go after her," Cadoc said, and began struggling to raise himself up.

Éowyn surged forward. "Don't," she urged him. "I will go after her."

Faramir fixed his wife with a dour expression. "I had hoped to break this news to her more gently."

Éowyn replied with an air of audacity. "And how did you plan to do that?" she asked. "In small bits, dancing around the subject? Or did you plan to strike out and not tell her of your objective until we were halfway to the city and she grew suspicious?"

"I would never do something so underhanded!" Faramir objected.

"If it were me," Éowyn continued, "I would be told plainly and be done with it. We were having a fine conversation until this came up. I will go after her and see that she understands that we did not mean to deceive her."

"My lady," Cadoc interjected, "also let her know that I have made no decision for or against this course." Faramir gave Cadoc an odd look, but Éowyn nodded and headed out to track down the orcess.

Pointing herself in the direction Rukhash had fled, Éowyn was relieved to discover that the orcess had not bothered to traipse lightly through the undergrowth. Though not specifically trained in the finer points of tracking, one could not be married to a ranger for twelve years and not acquire a little of his skill. Following the crushed branches and parted brush, Éowyn came to a base of a tall tree that bore the distinct gorges of claws. Through the canopy, she thought she spied a dark leg dangling from an impossibly high cluster of branches. With a quiet sigh, she shook her head. What on earth was the orcess thinking, bounding up trees in her condition?

"Rukhash!" she called up to the orcess. There was no reply. "Rukhash I know you are up there. I can see your leg." The leg tucked itself back out of sight. "You are being very silly," Éowyn admonished. "No one will force you to go anywhere you do not want. Please come down."

Silence greeted her and Éown made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "Very well," she conceded. "Then, I will be coming up after you!"

With a small hop, she was able to grasp the lowest branch and pull herself up. It took Éowyn a moment to steady herself, but once she had firm footing, she reached up to the next sturdy-looking bough and repeated the effort. The hard soles of her boot slipped, and a little shriek escaped her before she regained her footing and managed to sit herself on the next branch. She was far too old to be climbing trees! Gasping a little she looked up to find the orcess staring down from her impressively high perch. There would be a great deal more climbing before Éowyn would reach her.

Rukhash sported an annoyed look on her face. "Leave me alone!" she growled.

"I will do no such thing," Éowyn growled back and stood to reach for a branch that was much closer. She lifted herself onto it easily. "You are being remarkably unreasonable,' she said as she pressed herself against the trunk and used it to keep balance while she leaned sideways and employed a gnarl in the wood as a foothold, pushing herself up towards a branch she could not quite reach. With pure determination, she pulled herself up and checked her efforts, pleased that she was nearly halfway there, but annoyed that the boughs were further apart at this height.

Éowyn quietly gauged a leap towards her next target while she addressed the orcess. "My husband is not trying to trap you or Cadoc in any way. He wants to see things put right."

"Things was already right afore you come after us!" she argued. "I don't owe no explanation ta no king. I don't care who 'e is… and you ain't gonna make 'at jump. Go back down 'fore you hurt yerself."

"I intend to speak with you on this," Éowyn insisted as she braced herself for a leap. "So if you will not come down, then I am coming  _up_." She vaulted towards the branch, but as the orcess predicted, it was too far. With a cry of alarm, she barely managed to grasp the branch, and she felt the skin of her hand tear as she dug her nails into the bark, dangling from the limb and holding on with sheer willpower. Attempting to pull herself up, her hand slipped and a scream erupted from her throat as Éowyn felt herself begin to fall. That scream was cut in half as her descent came to an abrupt stop by a vice clutching her wrist. Éowyn was staring up into Rukhash's face. The orcess's eyes were puffy and her face was streaked with drying tears, but her expression was hard and determined.

"Stubborn idiot!" she hissed. "I'm gonna swing ya to 'at limb behind you. See it?"

Éowyn glanced behind her and saw the bough she was referring to. She nodded and the orcess swung her easily towards it, letting go at just the right moment. Éowyn barely had to do a thing. Her rear fell squarely on the branch and the most effort she had to exert was what she needed to steady herself. She blinked at the orcess, who was perched upside down on the trunk of the tree in a dumbfounding position. Her ankles were turned at an impossible angle as the grasping claws of her feet dug into the bark while she supported herself on the branch Éowyn had lept for by her long arm. Rukhash was giving her a dour look. "Yer a bleedin' nut," she said.

"I am a nut of no kind," Éwoyn replied, turning her nose in the air. She wavered on her perch, but was quick to catch herself.

With an easy grace, the orcess swung herself from one branch to another, until she was situated just below. She extended her hand. "Come on, then, Wraith Slayer," she offered. "Let's get you down."

"Only if you come down with me," Éowyn insisted.

"Yea, yea," Rukhash rumbled. "You'd make me feel real shitty if you went an' broke yer crazy neck climbin' after me. Come on, let's head down."

With Rukhash's help, Éowyn soon found herself safely on the ground with the orcess standing next to her. Rukhash pressed her hand to her abdomen with a little sigh.

"Are you feeling well?" Éowyn asked with a frown.

"I'm fine," she replied. "So go on and say what it is you tried ta kill yerself sayin'."

Éowyn was not sure how she felt about the orcess's detached tone. "Cadoc wanted me to tell you that he has not decided either way, whether he will accept Faramir's offer."

The orcess frowned deeply. "It ain't wholly up ta  _him_  is it?"

"No," Éowyn agreed. "It is not. Though, I have no clue what you are so worried about. You speak as if you expect King Elessar to strike you down the moment you enter the city–"

"That  _is_  what I expect," Rukhash interrupted.

"And I tell you that is foolishness! Lord Aragorn is a wise and just king."

"Who?"

"King Elessar," Éowyn clarified.

The orcess rolled her eyes. "If he's so wise an' just, 'en why'd 'e make it a point to clear my folk out to the last?"

"That was just the orcs still roaming Ithilien and Southern Gondor," Éowyn replied cooly. "And as I've said already, they were a scourge! They pillaged and razed long after the War was over, not caring that their Master was defeated. You should have seen the condition my husband was in after those missions…"

A disgusted look passed over Rukhash's face. "So yer sayin' 'e  _helped_?"

"Ithilien would not be the peaceful country it is now if Faramir had allowed those beasts to roam freely," Éowyn argued.

An even sicker look took hold of the orcess. "And this is all supposed ta convince me ta pay yer king a visit?" she asked bitterly. "I ain't even sure I want yer  _husband_  anywhere near me."

"And do you suppose  _Cadoc_  was  _not_  on those campaigns?" Éowyn returned, and immediately regretted her hasty words as the orcess turned away, pressing her hand to her mouth.

It was a moment before Rukhash found her voice. "Shaddup," she sniffed. "That ain't something I wanna think about...'Course I knew!" she sobbed. "Orcs kill men an' men kill orcs, an' 'at's how it's always been." She covered her mouth again and seemed to turn pale. "I'm gonna be fucking sick," she hissed through her fingers before turning towards the roots of the tree and doubling over, dry heaving.

Pained by the orcess's reaction, and guilty over her horrid bluntness, Éowyn crouched next to Rukhash, rubbing small circles on her back as she coughed and wept miserably. "My poor brother," she gasped helplessly, and Éowyn realized Rukhash was not addressing her. "Thraangzi, I'm so sorry!"

"Rukhash…" Éowyn started, but was startled as the orcess reached out and pushed her away.

"Leave me alone!" she hissed. "You done  _enough_."

"Please," Éowyn beseeched. "You cannot cry like this, it isn't good for the baby."

"What baby?"

Eyes round, Éowyn whirled to find Donir, Hedon, Calon and Rivalon standing no more than a few paces away, most likely returning from their long reconnoiter of the perimeter. Damnable Rangers and their quiet feet. How had they crept up so silently?

It was Donir who spoke, and Hedon was glancing at him with a guilty expression. Calon looked a little shocked, but it was Rivalon's sickened scowl that troubled Éowyn most. "The orc is _pregnant?_ " he asked, incredulous.

Rukhash glared at her with accusing eyes and then at the men standing behind them. "It ain't none a yer business," she hissed, standing. "None'a this is any of yer business! This is yer fault," she growled, pointing a claw at a startled Hedon. "Next time you want ta help, you can fucking shove it up yer arse!" She turned and stormed further down the cliff.

Before Éowyn could rush after her, Hedon surged forward and clasped her arm. "Do I even want to know what you said to her to prompt this reaction?" he asked coolly as he passed Lady Éowyn and proceeded in Rukhash's wake. Rooted by guilt, Éowyn was so troubled by her misplaced words, and Rukhash's reply to them, she did not realize the gross breach in decorum Hedon had just exhibited.

Donir laced his fingers on his head and frowned in the direction Hedon and the orcess had stormed off in. "Should we go after them?"

"We most likely would not be much help," Calon said as he eyed Rivalon warily. Noticing the blood on Éowyn's palm, he exclaimed, "Lady Éowyn! You are injured."

Staring at her hand, Éowyn flexed her fingers and watched the blood well in the deep scratches. "It is nothing," she said in an unsteady voice. "It could have been much worse."

* * *

Hedon caught up with Rukhash quickly. Though her stride was impressive her course was erratic. He called out to her and she didn't stop, instead, she broke into a trot. Picking up his own pace, Hedon jogged up alongside her and ceased her momentum with a light hand on her shoulder.

"And I was afraid you might make me chase you," he said with a breathy laugh.

"Thought about it," she replied crossly, glaring. "I ain't goin' to the White City, an' nothin' you say'll change my mind."

"The White City?" Hedon asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Yer muderin' boss is tryin' ta convince my murderin'  _shaûk_  ta drag me in front a yer murderin' king," she growled. "Or didn't ya know about that?"

"I did not know –"

"Well I ain't goin'!" she interjected furiously. "I'm going home, an' I'm goin' there  _now_."

"Wait," Hedon paused, "what are you saying?"

"I'm goin' to the mountains on my own. I'm goin' ta find my own folk!"

"But Cadoc is still unwell," Hedon argued, before realization took over. "You are leaving him?" Hedon asked, astounded.

"That'll make you happy, won't it?" she spat bitterly. "That'll make you  _all_  happy. Then 'e can tell 'is precious king he made a mistake, an' yer lives can all go back ta normal. That's what you want, ain't it? Ta get rid a me? Well, now I'm goin'!"

Hedon grasped her arm in a firm grip as she made to leave. "That will not make  _him_  happy," he growled, furious with her. "How can you even  _consider_  doing this to him? After all he has already sacrificed for you, all you have been through together,  _now_  you want to leave him? You carry his child, don't you think he deserves some say in  _that_."

"No!" Rukhash shrieked. "It's my sprog too, an' I'm takin' it with me, an' fuck him anyway, an' fuck  _you_ , yer just as much a murderin' bastard as he is!"

Hedon's face grew dark. "You are saying you have never taken another life? If you had seen what those orcs had done…"

"Oh, fuck you, Hedon!" she screeched. "I'm sick of bein' understandin'! More'n you are, even. Every one of 'em were trouble?  _Every single one_? Bullshit! We may kill and we may like it, but we ain't got it in our heads that we're doin' some great service! You think an orc wipin' out a village thinks he's some sorta hero? Fuck no! He thinks he's hungry an' you look like meat or sport, but he knows he's hurtin' ya, and you think 'at's worse, but what you do is loads worse! You cut down an orc sprog on 'is mum's tit an' you think yer savin' the fucking world. Self righteous, self important _bastards!_ "

Clutching at her abdomen, Rukhash strained to catch her breath, and Hedon released her arm, stepping back from her as she fell to the ground, weeping. "Go, then," he said calmly, gesturing towards the mountains. "If that is how you feel, then you are better off leaving, before you cause Cadoc any more heartache. This will kill him, you know. You are going to leave him just as Ingrid did, and worse, you are taking his baby with you. It has been a long time since I have seen my friend as happy as he is when he is with you, but if this is something that you cannot bear, then it is better that you leave now, before this animosity festers, and you do him true injury."

"I should have expected this," Hedon added crossly as she stood, glaring at him. "I should have expected the promise of an orc to amount to nothing."

With a final sneer, Rukhash stalked off. "Orc!" Hedon shouted after her, and she turned. He nodded due east, the opposite direction she was heading. "The mountains are that way."

Rukhash stormed off in that direction.


	48. The Long Night

**Splint**

**Chapter forty-eight: The Long Night**

* * *

Gazing into the troubled faces of his comrades and Lord's Lady, Cadoc could not quite believe what they had told him. Hedon, especially, seemed contrite for his words to Rukhash, but all agreed that perhaps this was the better course, that she should go to her people and he to his, and all would be in it's proper place. Even Faramir, who only a scant moments before spoke to understanding Cadoc's feelings, thought that the better outcome had presented itself.

Finding his voice, Cadoc furiously dismissed them all. "'The best course'?" he asked. "I have sworn myself to her! You have told me it is help you've come to bring us, and yet I've only seen suspicion and coarse words thrust upon her. And you, Hedon, how could you tell her that it is better for her to go?"

"Would you rather I restrained her?" Hedon said defensively. "She was set in her mind."

"You do not know that!" Cadoc exclaimed, and sat quickly up, though the pain it caused him was barely dulled by the medication he had taken earlier. With a quick breath, he regained himself and rose to his feet, ignoring the protest of his body.

"You should rest, Cadoc," Faramir pressed. "We can send someone to fetch her." Éowyn and the others nodded emphatically.

" _I_  will be the one to fetch her," Cadoc insisted as he pulled on his worn leather vest and tightened his belt. "Since it seems to me no one here is able to speak to her with any ounce of courtesy or gentleness."

"We were  _just_  having a civil discussion," Éowyn argued. "Before all of this happened –"

"Idle words!" Cadoc growled. "She had just slain her own brother! Her heart is weary and her temper is thin, and yet you all cast harsh eyes upon her as if you are waiting for her to make one wrong move so your assumptions might be met!" A guilty look passed over Rivalon, but Cadoc decided to ignore it.

"You will watch your tone," Faramir warned, with a hard expression.

A wave of exasperation hit him. Cadoc felt no need to beg forgiveness for his outburst. He had honestly expected a more tempered response from people he admired and called comrades, but all he could see in their behavior was foolish childishness, a desire to press an issue that was better left to settle in its own time. "Do you not think she and I have discussed our pasts?" he told Lady Éowyn. "It is a tentative subject at the best of times, and now her grief is right before her, right behind that stone!" He pointed to the large boulder sealing off Thraangzi's tomb.

"That orc was a killer, Cadoc," Faramir reasoned as Cadoc pulled on his boots and threaded his sworn on his belt. No one seemed pressed to stop him.

Cadoc stood stiffly, his face was tight with pain, but his eyes were dark, defiant. "We are  _all_  killers, my lord," he said stonily before striding into the lengthening shadows outside. Faramir and his men exchanged a startled look before following him out.

"Cadoc!" Faramir called. Halfway to the tree line, Cadoc stilled and turned. "It will be dark soon. At least allow us to assist you, if you are determined to hunt her down," he reasoned.

A wearied look came over Cadoc. "I am not  _hunting_  her, my lord," he said. "I would speak to her, reason with her, before this altercation parts us permanently. She is in no condition to be traveling alone, not with Dellon out there somewhere."

"It is going to be a half orc," Rivalon interjected dryly. "That child she bears will have no resemblance to you."

"Rivalon!" Calon hissed.

Cadoc fixed the man with a bitter smile. "Yes, Rivalon," he said. "The child she carries will be half orc. Such is often the case when one of the parents is a man and the other an orc. Or did you think my profession as her husband was in word alone? As for it's countenance, that worries me not, because it will still be mine. And I will let  _neither_  of them go so easily."

* * *

Rukhash had been at a dead sprint all afternoon. She refused to stop running until she reached the mountains. She was so close, they were great giants standing just before her, cerulean peaks that rose into the milky clouds. If she kept this pace, she would be among them well before the sun sank below the horizon.

The surrounding wood was a blur of greens and browns, dappled sunlight streaking red through the breaks in the canopy. It was because she was running so quickly that she could barely see more than shapes and colors, because she couldn't possibly be crying. She had wept more in the past few days then she remembered weeping in all of her life, and Rukhash was sure she couldn't be doing it again. The was not nearly enough water in her body to make that possible.

Damn Cadoc anyway. All the gentle kindness in the world did not undo the fact of what he was, what he did to her brother, what he intended to do to them _both_. A  _shaûk_  never pushed their partner further than they could go, and Cadoc had pushed her  _too far_. If his precious honor demanded he scrape and beg at the feet of his king, hoping to avoid a noose, that was none of her business.

What an idiot she was, to think a Man could be a  _shaûk_  at all. Her nan had known better. She hadn't bound herself to Rukhash's grandfather for good reason, because he wouldn't understand. Tit for tat, one action for another, that was how it went. You couldn't take and take and  _take_  and expect your partner to stick around for you to take some more. She had promised him her life, her loyalty, even her  _fidelity_ , had sacrificed her brother for him, had ignored all of his past deeds, had allowed him to spare an enemy because of some off notion of responsibility. Hedon was so quick to speak of Cadoc's sacrifices for her, but thought nothing of what she had sacrificed for Cadoc.

How men loved to profess  _love_ , a fool's sentiment with an insubstantial vow attached to it. What good would love do them while they were hanging from the highest parapet of Minas Tirith? How stupidly tragic.

She slowed to a stop at a cool, clear stream trickling in her path. She was viciously thirsty! Falling to her knees, the orcess dunked her head straight in and took a gulping drink, coming up for air a few times before plunging her face back in. Wiping her mouth, she decided to take a piss break and a breather. She'd made good time.

Sitting among a copse of roots, she leaned back and sighed. This was the smartest thing she could do. Cadoc would thank her later for it. Rukhash tried not to imagine his reaction or his grief; tried not to think of his tear streaked face all those months ago, as he hovered over her wounded body after the orc hunters attacked them in the cottage; or his steadfast vigil at her sick bed; or his proclamation before Barmund and his gang at the Anduin. He probably considered it a matter of that ill guided honor of his, seeing to her safety. He was the type to get attached too easily, which made it easy to get attached to  _him_ , but that didn't mean they were automatically bound together.

She had been too hasty, calling him  _shaûk_. At best, they were mates now, and that commitment was malleable. Rukhash laid her hand on her belly. The sprog had been mostly still while she ran, but now it was feeling spritely, flipping and tumbling and making her feel like peeing again.

"On our own now, little blighter," she rumbled quietly, annoyed that her voice was so unsteady. Why should she worry about being on her own? When she had lost her clan, she was just as equipped as she was now: a knife in her boot and the clothes on her back. She had survived that, and she wasn't nearly the hunter then that she was now. That first winter had nearly killed her.

She wouldn't have to worry about that this time. Once she made herself a new bow and fashioned arrows out of stone, she could hunt for herself, make her own tunics. She imagined, once she found a new tribe, she would have no trouble getting in. A healer and a hunter, with a sprog on her hip and milk in her tits? The lads would be lining up. The fact that her mite would be half Man wouldn't be an issue. Rukhash could spin that too; make it sound like she seduced a ranger. Folks would be real keen on a story like that.

A cool breeze struck her face, and she realized that it was completely wet. Wiping her eyes, Rukhash stood, intent on continuing on, but found that her legs wouldn't move. Turning, she looked behind her, the way she had come.  _You could go back,_  a treacherous little voice whispered.  _You could tell 'em all you overreacted and you didn't mean it. You could talk to Cadoc…_

What would that do? Cadoc would try to convince her to go to the White City. She could see it in his eyes that he wanted his name cleared, wanted a second chance from that asshole king of his, and Rukhash wouldn't risk it. The worst part was, she was fairly sure he  _could_  convince her. He would think of some persuasive words that wouldn't make it seem so bad, and she would go with him, because he was her  _shaûk_.

"Not anymore," she growled and turned back towards the mountains.

* * *

Agony. That's what riding was right now. But it was a tolerable agony, so Cadoc staunchly ignored it. His ribs were bruised, not broken, and in a few days, they would barely bother him at all. He would endure it.

They had found Rukhash's trail quickly, but the distance of her prints proved she was moving fast. Hedon had brought along the mare that he had purchased all those weeks ago to give to Cadoc, and now he was glad to have been afforded the smallest horse. She was tiny but sure footed in the rocky, forested landscape, and he was a pace ahead of Calon and Hedon, who were mounted on larger horses. Cadoc could see why Hedon named her Curudal, skilled foot.

Cadoc could not stop Hedon and Calon from following along, or Lord Faramir, Lady Éowyn and Donir from following after, taking a slightly different course so they might cover more ground. Rivalon had the good sense to stay behind to tell the others where they had gone, and after seeing the animosity he had for Rukhash – something that did not wholly surprise Cadoc – he was glad for it.

He was following Rukhash's trail directly, and Cadoc desperately hoped he was the one to come upon her first. As it was, he doubted she would be thrilled to see Hedon and Calon trailing behind him.

They rode for about an hour with no sign, and the daylight was quickly beginning to vanish. Cadoc was nearly ready to stop so he could take more of the pain medicine Lady Éowyn had prepared and stashed in a container, but his eyes managed to catch a shadowy shape up ahead, moving in the dark canopy. It paused atop a fallen tree to glance behind and he immediately recognized the shining glint of Rukhash's golden gaze. She was a long ways off, but he knew she was well within earshot.

"Rukhash!" he called, hoping she would stop and they could speak, but instead she turned and ran.

Swearing, he did not pause to allow his two companions to catch up, but bore ahead, intent on reaching her. Rukhash was fast, but not quite as fast as a horse, and Cadoc was hopeful he could overtake her. The terrain was not helping him. Curudal's gait was broken by sharp, sudden hills and an abundance of tree roots. He could not, safely, drive her flat out, and all the while, Rukhash was pulling away.

For another half hour he chased her steadily, never able to gain ground, but always close enough that he could see her. Eventually, the forest dropped off, and up ahead the mountain met the earth abruptly. A slab of stone, seven hundred meters across, twice as high and sheer as a plate of glass jutted out of the earth like a half buried trowel. It was set at a sharp angle, and Cadoc hoped, in an attempt to go around this obstacle, Rukhash would present him with an opportunity to catch her.

She went directly up it.

In a demonstration of her impossible abilities, she barely slowed down as she went straight up the steep incline on all fours. By the time Cadoc reached the base, she was near the top, leaping gracefully into a cluster of craggy boulders.

She paused there for a moment to look down at him, and though she was a good distance away, Cadoc imagined he saw something of regret in her grim features. Her attention was caught by something behind him and she scowled, vanishing into the shadowy landscape.

Hoofbeats alerted Cadoc to the approach of Hedon and Calon. His throat tight, Cadoc swallowed roughly and looked towards his companions.

"I do not think, in all my life, I have seen anything like that," Calon said in an awed voice.

With a poignant look, Hedon soberly added, "She is certainly eager to evade us."

If it was not for the sorrowful edge to his tone, Cadoc might have been incensed by Hedon's directness. He rode to the edge of the rock and was relieved to find two vertical stones with seemingly reliable holds. It looked as though they went the whole way up. He dismounted and grabbed his pack, which contained Lady Éowyn's medicine, rope, a waterskin and a spare cloak. Hedon dismounted next to him as Cadoc strapped it onto his back.

"What are you doing?" the younger ranger asked.

"I am going after her," Cadoc replied firmly as he took the first hold and hoisted himself up. His entire body screamed. Cadoc ignored it and pulled himself up a little higher.

Hedon halted him with a hand on his ankle. "This is madness!" he exclaimed. "Twilight has come. Wait for dawn and we can continue our pursuit."

"No!" Cadoc shouted. "I will not stop until I have found her."

"She doesn't  _want_  to be found," Hedon argued.

"Cadoc," Calon's calm voice chimed in, "Hedon is right. We should wait for dawn." Gauging Cadoc's expression, he amended, "Then we will accompany you."

"You will do no such thing," Cadoc pressed. "She will be less likely to approach me if I have you with me. I go alone. Wait for me here."

"You will die up there!" Hedon insisted and moved to grab his own supplies.

Cadoc pulled himself up a little higher. "She will not harm me," he said definitively, staring at the rising moon above.

"It is not  _her_ I am worried about!" Hedon shouted. "It is the  _mountain_  I fear. I am coming up after you."

Pausing, Cadoc glared down at him, nearly breathless. "Your presence will only drive Rukhash away. I would not need to do this if  _you_  had spoken to her with more reservation! Remain with Calon and tell Lord Faramir where I have gone.  _Do not_  come after me!"

Ignoring the hurt look on his friend's face, Cadoc pressed on. It was a good while before he reached the top, but Cadoc was pleased to find Hedon and Calon still at the bottom. They stared up at him, two pale faces in the gloom.

The moon was bright, illuminating the plateau Cadoc had reached. It was relatively even for a long distance. Examining the film of dust on the surface of the stone, he soon caught sight of obvious, orcish footprints, just about Rukhash-sized. She must have been exhausted after that dash to the mountain, because it seemed as though she moved at a slightly slower pace. Cadoc followed her path, the dark shape of the mountain rising above him like a silent guardian. For nearly a quarter mile he had no need to worry about his footing, but eventually, the even surface ended, quite abruptly, at a drop into a ravine. On the other side, there was a shorter incline towards a tunnel.

Broken rocks and stones formed a hill from the top to the bottom, and Rukhash seemed to have slid down them easily, forming a trench where she had taken the plunge. Bolstered by this additional evidence of her passage, Cadoc followed after.

The incline was steep, and halfway down he began sliding wildly. Barely managing to control his descent, he started tumbling towards the bottom. He caught himself with his hands on the first roll, but the second time his head cracked against a particularly large stone, and he slid to the bottom completely unconscious.

* * *

When he woke, the moon was directly overhead. Cadoc groaned quietly and rolled to sit up. Frowning, he pressed his palm against his bandaged ribs, and was surprised that he felt almost no pain at all, just a lingering stiffness. His tumble had thrown the patch covering his eye free. It lay a few feet away, covered in a film of silt. Cadoc found he, too, was dusty. He brushed off his vest and face, and touched lightly the wound he had received on his temple. It was covered in long-dried blood. Shaking his bandage free of dust and dirt, Cadoc replaced it over his eye, even though he found that wound, too, was firm and mostly healed.

"Curious," Cadoc mumbled. How long had he been lying there? Days?  _Weeks_? Hedon and Calon had certainly taken his warning to heart. No matter, it would not move him from his course. Cadoc would find Rukhash if he had to search the rest of his days.

All around, a mist had crept up, and the bright moon gave it a strange, lively luminescence. Other than the density of the fog, Cadoc could see quite well, his eyes easily adjusting to the dim light. He made his way to the tunnel he had spied earlier and frowned as he peered in. It was nothing but blackness. But Rukhash had gone this way, and if she had gone this way then so would he. With a steadying breath, he plunged into the darkness.

He used his hand to guide his path, keeping one on the wall and another stretched ahead of him, moving with careful purpose. It seemed as though he crept along for hours like this, his hand reaching into nothingness while his palm skimmed along the cool, smooth stone. Cadoc was suddenly struck by how purposeful the shape of the tunnel seemed. If nature had dug this hole, shouldn't it be rougher, more uneven?

His palm grazed a series of divots and Cadoc paused, tracking back a foot. Pressing his finger into the scored stone, Cadoc traced its path several times and was startled to find it formed the shape of a rune. It was the _kin_  rune, but not. There were several long lines branching off the main stem not quite as deep as those that formed the rune itself. He puzzled at this. Strange runes in a tunnel; his first thought went to dwarves, but there were no dwarves in this region.

"Orcs," he whispered into the silence. Orcs were said to use runes on occasion. Strange runes that called up dark magic. Were there other orcs here? And if so, why hadn't they joined up with Rukhash's brother, or he with them? And if there  _were_  orcs here, had Rukhash already found them?

Yet, if this was the entrance to an orc den, Cadoc would have expected to be challenged by now. Perhaps this marking, and this tunnel, were very old. Maybe there were dwarves – or orcs – here long ago, before human reckoning. Mountains held many secrets, and this region had been desolate for an age.

Deciding to let this mystery remain, he continued forward. It was only a few minutes before he spotting a tiny speck of light at the far end of the tunnel, and Cadoc hurried ahead, eager to find its source.

The light ahead was cold, illuminating the ground for several feet into the tunnel. Cadoc was momentarily hopeful that its source was artificial, and he might find some sign of life, but when he emerged, he discovered it was merely moonlit reflected off of the strange mist. He looked above and was startled to find the moon had not moved from its previous position.

That was impossible. He was in that tunnel for hours at least. It should be near daybreak. But here the moon was right where he left it and all around the strange mist swirled: shimmering, silent and endless.

There was a narrow ledge outside the tunnel that wound along the edge of a sheer cliff face. Cadoc looked up to find that the cliff rose for several hundred meters without a single foothold. Even Rukhash, as sure footed as she was, would never attempt a climb like that. Taking the most likely route, Cadc followed the narrow ledge, his back pressed against the rock as he shimmied, painfully slow, along this treacherous path.

He felt as though he should be more tired than he was, but shrugged it off and continued forward. Cadoc was not sure how much time passed as the mist swirled around him and he took tiny step after tiny step towards an uncertain goal. For all he knew, this path could end and he would be trapped with nowhere to go.

It did not end suddenly, but widened out so that Cadoc could walk along it normally. Not trusting the obscured terrain ahead, he did not run. He felt as though he were strolling through another world; gripped by a haunted feeling he could not name; trapped on all sides by rocks that erupted out of the mist and curled overhead, like long, black claws reaching towards the pale eye of the moon. And underneath it all was his fear that he would never find Rukhash, that he had lain at the bottom of that ravine too long, and she had vanished into the vast labyrinth of peaks and valleys between Gondor and Mordor.

Cadoc felt as though he were being watched. That feeling gripped him so suddenly he stopped in his tracks and peered out into the milky fog. Nothing moved, and he kept walking, but the feeling would not leave him, and he found himself pausing every few paces to glance behind and listen. This proved unproductive, since the only sound was his own footsteps and the distant howling of the wind.

Frowning, Cadoc realized he had felt no wind on his face since he left the tunnel.

Suddenly anxious, Cadoc crouched and ran his fingers along the sediment settled on the stone. Walking slowly forward, he concentrated on the ground and discovered that there were no footprints on this path except his own.

Rukhash had not come this way.

Turning back, Cadoc hurried to track back the way he had come. Perhaps there was something he had missed. Some place that would have allowed her to climb up and out of this strange causeway. The mist cleared and the path ended abruptly at the mouth of a tunnel, but not the tunnel he had come in through. This tunnel was shallow – perhaps twenty meters wide – merely acting as a passageway from the path he was on to another open area. On the other side, the mist swirled thicker and more violently.

This was  _very_  strange, because Cadoc was undoubtedly, undeniably  _positive_  that this was  _not_  here before.

In the tunnel, there was utter blackness. As he stepped into the passageway, a dark shape moved at the edge of the other side. Cadoc's heart caught in his throat.

"Rukhash?" he asked hopefully. His low whisper sounded like a cacophony in the silence.

The shape straightened to reveal a very small figure. It stared at him with glimmering, orange eyes. Orc eyes. Cadoc blinked, surprised to see an orc so young unaccompanied. " _What're you yookin' fer?"_  the imp's voice was strange, like a hissing in the air, so that it sounded as if it came from everywhere at once. An odd trick of acoustics, most likely.

Raising his hands harmlessly, Cadoc crouched down to her level, but did not risk approaching her. There was no telling where her mother was, and Cadoc did not want to appear as though he were threatening her. "Hello little one," he greeted politely. "I am looking for an orc like you. An orcess named Rukhash. Do you know her?"

The little imp laughed, a twittering, animal sound. " _Why'ssat?_ " she asked, sounding amused, as though they were playing a game.

Cadoc smiled gently. "She is a very good friend of mine, but she has run off, and I am trying to find her." he explained.

" _Justa fwend_?" the imp asked seriously.

Frowning, Cadoc wondered why the little orc was being so nosey. "More than a friend," he admitted. "she is my wi–" Cadoc paused, realizing that the imp would probably not know what a 'wife' was. "We are _shaûk_."

The imp giggled and promptly vanished. Cadoc rose quickly to his feet and rushed to the other side of the tunnel. Here the ground stretched into the mist and a high ledge rose in the distance. Atop that ledge was the same, orange eyed imp waving at him. " _Dis way!_ " she laughed.

Cadoc was too relieved to be receiving any kind of help to question how she moved such a distance in such a short amount of time, or to wonder whether she was leading him into a trap.

He crossed the span between the tunnel and the ledge in long strides, but by the time he reached the rocky ledge where the imp had stood, it was gone. "Little one?" Cadoc called.

A great force stuck him, like being clobbered with half a tree, and Cadoc fell down the hard hill of the ledge and back onto the slabs of stone below. A great roar echoed around him, and before he could move, he was being pinned down by someone with relentless strength. Though bathed mostly in shadow, Cadoc immediately recognized Rukhash's brother.

"Thraangzi!" he growled just before Thraangzi's massive hand wrapped around his throat and started to squeeze.

"I got ya now,  _tark_ ," he hissed. "And  _she_  ain't here ta help ya!"

This was impossible. Thraangzi was  _dead_. Rukhash had put three arrows in him. A horrified thought gripped Cadoc. Had that fall killed him? Was this some kind of personal hell?

Thraangzi's grip tightened and Cadoc reached for his sword, struggling to unbuckle and pull the blade free. Looking up into the face of Rukhash's brother, he realized the scar over Thraangzi's eye had grown to cover most of the left side of his face. That eye looked at him cold and unforgiving, but his right eye was shimmering with sorrow.

"Now you'll suffer fer what you done ta them," he growled, and Cadoc though his voice sounded strained.

Though Thraangzi's fingers around his throat were tight, Cadoc still was able to find his voice. "Thraangzi," he wheezed, remembering the pain of his wife and the agony she felt at the death of her children and former _shaûk_. "I am  _sorry_." And Cadoc found, in the depths of his soul, he meant it. Whatever Thraangzi was in life, in death he was a grieving father, and no amount of excuses or explanations or matters of circumstance made a difference one way or another. That pain was the same no matter  _what_  he was.

As though sensing his sincerity, the massive orc's grip loosened a bit at that. He sneered. "It's too late fer that!" He began to crush Cadoc's larynx. Wrapping his fingers around the hilt, Cadoc's grip on his sword tightened, but something kept him from pulling the blade free. Thraangzi's scar seemed to grow, stretching out over his skull. Realizing what he was witnessing, Cadoc tried to reach him again.

In the wake of Thraangzi's assault, he had no voice. Instead, Cadoc released his sword and reached out to clasp the orc's muscled shoulder. With wide eyes, Thraangzi loosed his grip again, though he did not release Cadoc's throat. Still, that was enough for Cadoc to form words. "I would never ask your forgiveness," the ranger gasped. "But I would ask for your understanding."

Startled, Thraangzi stepped back, looking at him dumbfounded. "You cannot spend an eternity living in hate," Cadoc reasoned. "If killing me will bring you peace, then my life is yours, but I cannot undo what I did to your sons… or your  _shaûk_."

Reaching for his sheathed sword, Cadoc extended it to the orc, offering the hilt. If Thraangzi was going to kill him – or kill him in the afterlife; at this point, Cadoc was not sure where he was – then it may as well be a clean death by a sword.

Thraangzi did not take the hilt of his sword. The scar on his face shrank a little, though it did not disappear completely. They remained frozen like that for long minutes each regarding the other; Cadoc offering his life and Thraangzi deciding whether or not he should take it. The very dust in the air seemed to still, and Cadoc was too afraid to speak and break the tense silence. Rukhash's brother regarded him thoughtfully then, his brow knitting with something like understanding. "I get it," he said quietly. "I get what she sees in you."

"That's enough 'en, innit?" A deep, gruff voice said from the darkness. Cadoc's head swiveled towards the voice and he realized they had been joined by a massive, black bezerker; a red eyed uruk of Mordor.

Cadoc knew immediately who this was. Rukhash had described Anbagûrz often enough to him.

"Common 'en lil' brother,"Anbagûrz said, addressing Thraangzi. "Zgurzna an dem boys been waitin' on ya." Thraangzi gave Cadoc one, last curious look before striding into a dense, tall shadow that had sprung up beyond Anbagûrz, like a slice in the air.

A bright giggle alerted Cadoc to the presence of the little imp that led him here. "Rangmau," Cadoc addressed her and she clapped her hands together. How could he not have guessed at it? She looked like a tinier version of Rukhash, with a mop of curly black hair and a pair of large, almond eyes. She even had her mother's freckles and a tiny white fang peeking out of her lower lip.  _This must have been what Rukhash looked like as a child_ , Cadoc realized.

"Is Rukhash here?" he asked her. If Rukhash was here, did that mean that they were all dead? For a moment, his head swam.

"Nuh'uh," Rangmau shook her head. "See's wit you."

"With me?" Cadoc was baffled.

"Yup!" the little orcess chirped. "So you's gosta go back'n look after her. Unca Fwaansee jus' needed ta have a talks wit you afore yuh went back."

"I see," Cadoc said quietly.

Rangmau smiled the sweet smile of a young child and patted his cheek. "You go take care'a mum an lil' sis."

"I will," he promised.  _If I can find her._

Rangmau pranced towards her father and smiled up at him as she vanished into the tall shadow that had swallowed her uncle. The giant, black orc that was Anbagûrz said nothing to Cadoc. They locked eyes for a long while, and Cadoc felt as though there was much said in that moment, though he could not put words to it. Anbagûrz offered him a solemn nod, that Cadoc returned, before he turned and went after his daughter.

Thicker than it was before, the mist devoured the mountain and, as the tall shadow shrank and vanished, Cadoc was surrounded on all sides by the it. He was blinded by dense whiteness and felt, suddenly, as though he was floating up, up, into...

* * *

Cadoc sucked in a great breath. His whole body felt like one, giant  _ache_. The pain in his ribs was back with a vengeance. Rukhash was hovering above him, silhouetted by the high moon, her yellow eyes wide and tear filled.

"Bloody hell, you stupid  _prick!_ " she screeched at him. "What the fuck were you  _thinking_."

Reaching up, Cadoc gently cupped her wet cheek. "I found you," he said with a small smile.

Rukhash's face screwed up in a mask of fury. "You didn't find shit you damn fool! I doubled back cause I felt bad and found you lyin' at the bottom of a fucking  _ditch_! You weren't even breathin'. I thought you fucking  _died_  you fucking arsehole!"

"I am sorry to disappoint you," Cadoc breathed.

Rukhash heaved a great sigh. "I ain't disappointed," she admitted tearfully as she helped him sit up. "I can tell myself no an' no an' it's fer the best, but, once I lost ya good, thinkin' about you not bein' there near drove me ta hysterics. An' then I track back an' find ya here barely breathin'! You great, stubborn  _arse_!" She fixed him with a serious look, struggling to say something more. "If yer dead set on the White City," she added, a resigned note to her voice, "if you can swear ta me 'at you got  _no doubts_  that this king a yers'll set things straight… then… I'll go wit' you. Asides, you'd look real stupid hanging from a noose on yer lonesome if things go sour."

She was completely disheveled. Her face was streaked with grime and dried tears, her tunic was filthy. But in his eyes, there was nothing more lovely than Rukhash, with her large solemn eyes and expressive face, her dark skin and bright smile and the silver dappling of freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to keep her with him and see her safe. Idly stroking her hair, Cadoc realized that he could not be completely sure that King Elessar would make a ruling in their favor. It was entirely possible he would agree with Magistrate Aradhel. Cadoc didn't want to  _believe_  that such a thing was true, but he could not be sure of it, and that that doubt was more than enough to give him pause. Pressing his hand to the gentle swell of her belly, he was startled when he felt a strong, little kick.

He was reminded of Rangmau's words to him.  _...go take care'a mum an lil' sis._

 _A girl,_  Cadoc thought with complete conviction, sure that what he experienced was more than just an idle knock on the head.  _We're going to have a daughter._

It was a tempting offer to clear his name and restore his honor, but a  _possibility_  was not nearly worth the life of his daughter and his  _shaûk_. Cadoc startled himself a little with that thought. Since they had agreed to remain with one another, he had thought of Rukhash as his wife. He had never thought of her as a  _shaûk_  before, but he realized that was exactly what she was to him. They were together 'til the bitter end of it, honor be damned.

"We're not going to Minas Tirith," he told her seriously, meeting her gaze. A great relief seemed to wash over her, but Cadoc had more he wanted said. "And we need to talk about what happened, Rukhash," he added in a grim tone. "We need to discuss what happened with your brother. And if there is anything in my past that you want to talk about, then we should discuss that too. I know it makes you uncomfortable, but we must say what needs saying." He pulled her into an embrace. "I cannot bear to lose you. Please, Rukhash, promise me."

She frowned, but nodded. "I promise," she said. "But not now, yea? We need ta get you patched up. You got this big ol' cut on yer head."

"Hedon and Calon are close, and they have some supplies with them," Cadoc told her. "If we can get back up this ridge, the rest of the way should be fairly easy."

A voice boomed from the top of the ravine, " _Hallooo_  down there!"

Cadoc grinned up at the dour expression on his friend's face. "Hedon!" Cadoc shouted cheerfully and pointed at Rukhash. "I found her!"


	49. Another Road

**Splint**

**Chapter forty-nine: Another Road**

* * *

They came upon more than Calon when they descended from the mountain. Faramir was there too, along with Lady Éowyn and the rest of the guard that had been their company. The tents had been rolled up and packed away on stouter horses bred for bearing loads, along with all of the provisions that Faramir's company had brought with them. They had established a smaller camp at the base of the mountain. Cadoc realized this must have been Lord Faramir's plan, and the reason he had hung back to assign Rivalon's duty. Apparently, he assumed that, if Cadoc was well enough to ride after Rukhash, then he was most likely well enough to travel. This was true enough, but Cadoc intended to travel a different road than what the prince had laid out before him during their discussion.

Now came the matter of breaking the news, and Cadoc felt an odd apprehension at this. Their conversation had been reasonable. Lord Faramir's tone had remained steady and gentle as he explained to Cadoc that the king would not condemn him, that once he met with Cadoc, Elessar would not begrudge him his choice. But he had also emphasized that speaking on Cadoc's behalf would be that much harder if Cadoc himself were not there to prove his words.

"He will see the man you are," Faramir had said, "and see the manner of... woman... that Rukhash is, and I imagine he will understand why it is you stay with her. Certainly, she had shown remarkable restraint in her dealing with us, and impressive devotion to you. He will not condemn you, Cadoc, and he will see that the charges brought against you were delivered in error."

Cadoc wondered what Lord Faramir thought of Rukhash now that she had shown her temper and led them on this merry chase; if his opinion of her had changed. He wondered what his lord would do when Cadoc told him that he would not travel to Minas Tirith.

The moment they reached the ground, Rukhash's eyes darted about. She strolled away from the group, leaving the warm circle of firelight, and tucked herself into a little shelf in the rock so that she was out of sight. Frowning, Cadoc briefly turned his back on the assembled company, who had rose to greet them, and went to her side.

"You are angry with them," he assumed as he laid a hand on her thigh.

Rukhash shook her head. "I ain't angry at no one, I jus' don't feel all 'at chatty. They don't like me anyhow."

"That is not true," Cadoc insisted. She gave him a weary look. "I must speak with Lord Faramir," he told her, "but I will be back at your side soon."

With a frown, she brushed her knuckles against his jaw. "You want me ta stand with you?"

"Do as you like," he said, and pressed her fingers to his lips. Cadoc turned to walk back into the firelight. He heard a quiet crunch of grass as Rukhash hopped down and followed after.

Slowing a moment, Cadoc clasped her hand before continuing on. The short trek between the little shelf and where Lord Faramir stood felt like a thousand miles and not the few meters it actually was. The prince had stepped away from the main party, obviously intent on having a private conversation with the two of them. Cadoc offered a polite nod as he approached, which Lord Faramir returned.

"It was quite the exciting afternoon you've provided," Faramir said to Rukhash, and she bowed her head a little, obviously uncomfortable to be in his sights. "I hope you both have come to an accord."

"We have, my lord," Cadoc told him.

"Good," Lord Faramir said, sounding pleased. "Calon said you appeared to be riding well. It seems as though Éowyn's medicine has done it's work. I assume that you are well enough to travel tomorrow?" The prince glanced briefly at the scabbed cut on his temple. "Though, it looks as though that mountain gave you a bit of trouble. If you need a day or two, we can wait to set out, but I have been away for a few weeks now, and I imagine my court is growing anxious. I am eager to depart, if you feel up for it."

"Lady Éowyn's medicine is great indeed. I feel well enough for travel." Cadoc squeezed Rukhash's hand. "However, my lord, the road I intend to take will not lead me to Minas Tirith."

Faramir's brow knitted. "Captain, we have discussed this…"

"I know," Cadoc said, turning towards his silent  _shaûk_. "But I have decided to heed Rukhash and go to Mordor instead."

The prince turned towards the orcess. "I am curious what you have said to him to ignite this response." Cadoc thought he saw a little heat in the glare that Faramir fixed on Rukhash. "Or," he addressed Cadoc, "was it her fleeing that has made you choose this path? Because I would counsel against this, Cadoc; as I did earlier. It will appear as though you've chosen to run from this accusation."

"I do not choose to run," Cadoc stated, endeavoring to keep his tone calm, respectful. "But I will not subject Rukhash to the animosity she will find in the king's court."

"You cannot believe that King Elessar would be so unreasonable," Faramir insisted. He saw Cadoc's pause and frowned. "Cadoc…"

"I would prefer not to believe it," Cadoc admitted, "but I have doubt, and that is enough. Even if all happens as you say it will, even if the king were to welcome us with open arms – which I doubt more thoroughly than simple tolerance of us – I refuse to subject Rukhash to the  _people_  of Minas Tirith. Magistrate Halbard offered acceptance and protection of the law, and that was not enough to keep men with foul intentions from attacking us. Even with the king's  _blessing_ , there is no rule, no law, that will protect her from those that despise her for what she is, or despise  _us_  for what we are to one another."

Cadoc glanced behind him towards the men that had accompanied Faramir. Though some spoke amongst themselves, there were others that were glaring at them. Rivalon, especially, seemed to have put on his best scowl. "Look at the men with you," Cadoc added quietly. "I fought with Tuluston and Oreldir at the gates of Morannon; Celebas and I have known each other since I began my training; Rivalon has been a close friend to me for many years, and yet, see how they look upon who I've chosen as my partner and my wife. I've known these men for years, but the derision on their faces makes them seem almost like strangers. It is only by the ghost of our friendship that their swords remain in their sheaths. If  _they_  have judged me – and her – so harshly in their hearts, what should I expect of those that do not know me?"

A sad look passed over Faramir's features. "I had hoped they would come here with more open minds – it is why I made this mission voluntary – but I cannot say that I do not see as you do." The prince bowed his head. "It is a harder task you charge me with, to speak in your favor without your presence to bolster my claim, but I will still speak for you."

With a resigned sigh, Faramir's attention turned towards the orcess, who had remained silent through the entirety of their discussion. "And I would speak for you as well, madam Rukhash, for though you possess something of a heated temper, I must admit that you have been pressed near the breaking point these past few days, and I am not sure many could endure what you have."

A thoughtful look passed over Rukhash's face, and she nodded, sparing Faramir a small, sad smile. "Sorry I went an' were so much trouble," she said.

"Less trouble than you suspect," Faramir told her. "Now I can say I have broken bread with an orc, and lived to tell of it, though I had hoped we might have more productive conversations than what I had afforded you." He turned back towards Cadoc. "Can you bear to spend a night alongside such immovable men? Or shall we say our farewells now?"

"There are a few that do not seem to have condemned me," Cadoc admitted. "And I would pass one more night among Hedon and my old mentor, also. It has been years since I've seen Belegorn."

With a small smile and a nod of understanding, Faramir went to join his men. Rukhash let out a breath in a great whoosh. "I thought 'at were gonna go loads worse," she admitted.

"As I've told you before," Cadoc said gently, squeezing her shoulder. "Lord Faramir is a man of reason." Looking over her disheveled appearance, Cadoc frowned. "I will draw some water for you to freshen up with," he said. "Why don't you rest for a while."

"You have 'at cut look after first," she insisted. "A little dirt won't 'urt me."

* * *

Glancing back at the people situated around the fire, Rukhash was pleased that Cadoc was having his injury seen to by Lady Éowyn. Most of the men in Faramir's group had turned in, leaving Cadoc with Belegorn and Hedon to talk to. The younger ranger Donir was with them also, saying something with a grinning face that Cadoc chuckled at, and Rukhash felt a nagging guilt tug at her.

Cadoc was going to miss his friends...  _and_  his family. Somewhere further in the west, Edda was probably worried sick about him.

But she wasn't twisting his arm. She had offered to make the trip with him to the White City. They would have to be friend and family to each other now. Rukhash rubbed the swell of her belly affectionately as the sprog tumbled.  _Besides_ , she thought,  _it ain't gonna be jus' the two'a us much longer._

Her thoughts were interrupted by movement in her peripheral. Calon was coming towards her carrying a great bundle in his arms. Rukhash spotted her bow and arrows sticking out of the sides, and she realized he had come to return her and Cadoc's provisions. Though relieved that his partner wasn't with him, she tucked herself into the ledge anyway. Calon was a polite enough bloke, but Rukhash had no idea what she would say to him.

Depositing his burden at the base of the rock she was hiding in, he stood to peer in after her. "Miss Rukhash," he greeted with a little bob of the head.

"Hey," she greeted back.

A thoughtful look crossed the man's features. "Lord Faramir has informed everyone that you and Cadoc plan on parting ways with us tomorrow," he said. "I would wish you farewell, and ask that you forgive the harsh words of Rivalon. He is normally not so ill mannered."

Rukhash wrinkled her nose. "I don't get what you see in 'im," she rumbled. "But ta everyone their own, ya? I mean, most a you what can't get why Cadoc's with me."

A troubled expression lit on Calon's face. "I am not sure what you speak of…" he said warily.

"Well, you know, sometimes folks don't really get why ya feel the way ya do about yer  _shaûk_ … or," she amended, noticing the knot forming on his brow, "I guess he'd be yer husband, yea? I mean, I just figured it were like 'at 'tween you two." Rukhash elaborated.

Now Calon looked truly troubled. "Why would you say that?" he asked suspiciously. "Has Cadoc said anything to you?"

"What?" Rukhash was unsure why he was stinking like fear. "No. You don't think, while you were watchin' me I weren't watchin' back? It's pretty obvious at you two are a pair."

With an terrified breath, Calon asked, "How do you mean?"

"I dunno…" she fumbled, wondering if she had guessed wrong. "It's like, how you stand when yer next to each other or… just yer tone when yer talkin'. Even when you was snappin' at him… it just reminded me'a how Cadoc sounds when I say somethin' stupid." The orcess frowned. There were a number of telling ways when it came to picking out couples. In an orc clan, body language was nearly as important as words, more so, even. It was important to know who was attached to who. Sometimes making one enemy meant you made  _two_.

Calon's face was a mask of worry. "What's wrong?" Rukhash asked. "Were I off? I were just makin' a guess is all. I just figured, with how you two are wit' each other, 'at yer a pair."

The ranger's eyes darted back towards his comrades who were still situated around the fire. "You did not say anything to anyone else, did you?" he asked in an unsteady voice.

"Why would I do that?" the orcess scoffed. "It were just somethin' I noticed. I don't know none a you men enough ta discuss who yer messin' around with…"

"Please, lower your voice," Calon asked her anxiously.

Sitting up a little straighter, Rukhash had a good, long look at the ranger standing in front of her. She did not know Calon well, but what she did know of him suggested that he was an even tempered man, the sort that wasn't ruffled too easily. To see him now, she might think he was afraid of the world. He looked like a frightened rabbit. "It's a secret?" she guessed.

"Our relationship," Calon said in a low, sad tone, "is no more accepted in Gondor than what you have with Cadoc. Perhaps, among some, even less. Rivalon and I have told those that we trust, but it is not common knowledge, and I would desperately ask that you keep it that way."

"I know that Rivalon has been unkind to you," Calon added quickly, "but if you knew him as I do, then you would know a kind and good natured man. Please, Rukhash, do not mention this to anyone else besides Cadoc. He knows already."

The orcess regarded him thoughtfully. "Ain't like he tried ta knock my head off," she acquiesced. " It ain't nothin' personal wit' him, I guess, and what you lads get up to ain't none'a my business anyhow. It's sorta shitty, though," she added with a scowl. "I think yer lot cares loads too much 'bout where other folks go stickin' their privates."

A breathy, strained laugh escaped the ranger. "I would say that you are right," he agreed.

The orcess smiled at him. "You do that bloke a service," she said. "He can't be all the huge arsehole I think he is if 'e got such good taste in partners."

"Rivalon would not be here if I had not urged him so tenaciously," Calon admitted. "He was of the mind to have nothing to do with you, for good  _or_  ill."

"You go where yer  _shaûk_  goes," she said quietly. "I'da went with Cadoc to the White City if he really wanted me to, even though I'm sure we'd have the noose fer it."

"It is a difficult thing to decide, " Calon admitted, "who you can trust and who you cannot. I would say your lack of faith in our king is misplaced, but I have doubts regarding my own situation."

The ranger offered Rukhash his gloved hand in friendship and, after a blinking pause, she took it. "I will hope that Mordor affords you and Cadoc a happy life," he told her, "and that your people are more accepting of him than his were of you."

She frowned and released his hand, turning her eyes down. "We'll see," she said quietly. "I hope things sort themselves out here fer you and yer  _shaûk_ , but 'at's more fer you 'en fer him."

The ranger's eyes grew distant. "The world may be a long way off from that, I fear," Calon said somberly. He rallied a brighter expression. "Speaking of Rivalon, I think I will follow his lead and retire. It is quite late, and we will be riding out earlier than Lord Faramir to usher his return. Fare well, madam Rukhash, and," he added with a gentle smile, "many blessings on your little one."

"Thanks," the orcess said, feeling oddly sheepish.

As Calon left, Rukhash peered out of her little shelter to watch him go and sighed as she saw Éowyn pass him, coming straight in her direction. It would seem she would have to endure some company whether she wanted it or not. Éowyn's mouth was drawn in a reassuring smile as she carried a pail of water in one hand and a little pot in another. A long piece of cloth was draped over her arm. Rukhash felt a little of her ire melt away. She wouldn't mind a bath much at all.

"Hello," Éowyn greeted as she set the pail and pot on the rocky shelf and began rummaging through Rukhash's pack.

"Oi," the orcess grumbled. "What're you diggin' through my stuff fer?"

Éowyn stood holding one of Rukhash's clean tunics,. She appraised the soft, reddish leather thoughtfully. "This is quite lovely," she admitted as she passed it along to the orcess. "You have some skill with a needle."

" _Gar_ ," Rukhash rolled her eyes. "Do arright enough wit' it, I guess."

Pushing the pail further into the shelf, Éowyn hopped onto the ledge and held up the wide cloth she brought, pinning it to the ceiling with the heels of her hands to provide the orcess with a semblance of privacy. "Since your husband is clucking away like an old hen," she said haughtily, "I am afraid it falls to me to protect your modesty. We women must look out for one another, after all."

The orcess snorted as she pulled of her filthy tunic and rummaged in the pail for the rag floating in the warm water. "I ain't really all that modest," she admitted. "But I don't mind a bath."

"You looked like you had the time of it, when I saw you coming down off that cliff," Éowyn said thoughtfully. She paused. Rukhash watched her shoulders rise and fall with a steadying breath. "I apologize for upsetting you earlier," the woman said. "Faramir is always telling me that I should mind my brusque manner... but really, he may kill me with that evasive courtesy of his. Oh…" Éowyn turned to look at her, "but that is neither here nor there. I would ask your forgiveness for words said thoughtlessly."

"It's fine," Rukhash said with a careless shrug. Éowyn's heart was in the right place, even if Rukhash did feel a little sting remembering their conversation. "I mean, I were real pissed, but that run sorta cleared my head a bit. It's done with, yea? I'd rather not harp on it."

"That's very large of you," the woman said with a thankful smile before focusing her attention forward again, leaning her head on her arms as she shielded Rukhash from prying eyes that Rukhash was quite certain were not there. Considering the reaction these men had to her, she doubted that any of them were interested in having a bit of a show on her account.

Still, the water was warm and it felt good to scrape the grime of the day off. Rukhash popped open the top of the little pot and took a slight sniff of the soft, white soap Lady Éowyn had brought. It had a pleasant, subtle odor. "Basil in here?" she asked curiously.

"That is a fine nose you have. There is," Éowyn replied, sounding impressed.

"Hn," Rukhash grunted. "Good for keeping the bugs off," she commented offhandedly.

"That is why it is there," Éowyn said. There was an inkling of pleasedness in her voice. There was another long pause as Rukhash scrubbed, though the orcess could feel there was more Éowyn wanted to say "You know, Hedon told me you were a healer of skill" she said distantly. "I am sad that my only concern upon meeting you was your race. Now I wish we might have compared our practices."

Rukhash smiled at that. "Like the work, do you? Like it well enough myself, but I heard some orc girls just take it up so's they have some status."

"I do enjoy it," Éowyn said, her voice suddenly far away. "There was a time when I held a sword and thought that was all I wanted in life, but I must say, I find greater satisfaction in healing hurts than causing them. Though," she added turning towards the orcess, "the hurts we cause with our tongues can sting as much as any blade."

"It's done," Rukhash assured her as she rinsed the rag and began wiping the soap away. "Don't let it weigh you down. If I were holdin' a grudge, I'da kicked you off that ledge the second you hopped up."

"I appreciate such straightforwardness," Éowyn said. She glanced briefly at the swell of Rukhash's abdomen. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "You put yourself under a great deal of strain today. I was quite worried the whole time we were searching for you."

"If you like," Éowyn started, a little unease creeping into her voice, " I could examine you. If there's anything you are concerned about, that is. I know you cannot do that for yourself."

The orcess pulled the tunic over her head and smirked at the woman sitting next to her. "Real keen on gettin' yer fingers up there, are ya?"

"Gracious,  _no_!" Éowyn looked aghast, then frowned. "Oh dear... are you bleeding?"

Rukhash chuckled. "I'm fine," she said and grasped Éowyn's wrist. "Here then…" She pressed the woman's palm to the strained cloth across her belly. The sprog was in the middle of a hearty series of kicks, and Éowyn smiled at the movement.

"That is quite the rambunctious one," she said, pulling her hand away. "I do not envy your poor bladder."

"Speakin' of that," the orcess rumbled. "I need ta take a piss. Thanks fer the bath, though. I appreciate it."

"Cadoc was going to bring it himself," Éowyn admitted, "but I insisted. I wanted to put things right between us." As Calon had before her, Éowyn offered her hand. "You have my friendship if you care to take it."

Rukhash shook her head a little as she clutched Éowyn's fingers. "You folk are too easy with yer friendship," she said. "But I'll have it if yer givin' it away so freely."

"Not as freely as you think," the woman said with a strained smile before hopping down from the ledge. She lent Rukhash a hand in getting down and followed her to the treeline.

"You need a rest stop too?" the orcess asked, bemused.

"Actually, I do," Éowyn said with a laugh. "Better to go off together. We women have to look out for one another, you know."

It was a very orcish sentiment. Female orcs often stood shoulder to shoulder with one another, even if they didn't care much for each other personally. When they were at their most contentious, Shapag had spared Rukhash a good deal of abuse at the hands of a few rowdy males that had joined their group early on. Those boys had not stuck with them long after a throttling by that massive female. And Botarg, who had always been quick with the back of her hand, had spared her little sister the unwanted advances of a pushy older male. Rukhash could still remember his clawed, welt covered face when she and her older sister were done with him.

When challenged, female orcs stood together without pause, and it was considered the worst form not to hold to that unspoken code.

Rukhash glanced sidelong and smiled a small, amused smile at the woman awkwardly leaning against a tree as she did her best not to pee on the trousers around her ankles. "Oh, I hate this," Éowyn hissed. Finished herself, Rukhash offered her a hand to balance on. After all, women had to look out for one another.

* * *

Rukhash was half asleep by the time Cadoc stumbled into their pallet. He smelled like drinking. Not the hard stuff they shared back at Edda's, but libations of some kind. She shrugged that off easily. Rukhash would not begrudge him a few swallows with his friends.

Rolling to his side for a moment, Cadoc embraced her briefly. A low, pained grunt rumbled in his throat, and he rolled onto his back again, clasping her hand instead. Poor Cadoc, they would have to take it easy for a few days until the pain in his ribs subsided, but Lady Éwoyn had left them with a decent amount of her medicine. Rukhash was relieved he would not have to bear that injury without aid.

It seemed as though she had only just shut her eyes when she opened them to sunlight and low whispers. Glancing to the empty spot at her side, she realized her  _shaûk_ was missing already. Cadoc was sitting with Lord Faramir and the half of his men that had remained behind after the advance group had left. Annoyed that Cadoc had not woken her, she rolled to her feet and stretched, feeling stiff and groggy.

The rangers were situated near a low fire, most of them with their backs facing in her direction. There was a pot bubbling with some manner of mysterious concoction. Hedon and Cadoc were side by side, talking in low whispers, and Rukhash decided that she wanted to say goodbye to the stupid ox, even if he was a great, giant arse.

Shuffling towards them, she rubbed her eyes and yawned, dragging her bare feet against the scruffy grass. Her whole body felt like a load of lead weight. The smell of breakfast wafted up her nose and her stomach rumbled angrily. In all the excitement, she had forgotten that she did not eat the night before.

"Ah! Miss orc," Donir greeted, the first to notice her, "you will find that Uialon has provided us, once again, with a great feast." He smirked a great smirk in the older man's direction and Uialon grunted, obviously unamused.

"I'll be happy to eat your portion if you're complaining," Belegorn told him.

Cadoc shifted to the side, and Rukhash took a seat between him and his mentor, feeling oddly embarrassed. Now she wished Éowyn had not pulled this particular tunic for her. It was one of her smaller ones, and made her pregnancy much more obvious, especially with her belt tied up under her breasts. Rukhash pulled her hem down as far as it would go and gazed intently at her clawed toes. "Goodmornin'," she mumbled.

A bowl of porridge and great hunks of venison appeared suddenly in her lap. Her stomach growled so loudly, it made her insides rumble. There was a small chuckle from the older ranger to her left. "A healthy appetite I see," Belegorn said, sounding amused. Rukhash felt her face go red hot.

"You should not be skipping meals," Éowyn admonished in a sing song voice from her seat next to Faramir.

"Yea, yea," the orcess grumbled, shoveling a spoonful into her mouth. It began a cascade, and soon Rukhash was finishing her bowl with ravenous abandon. She couldn't chew fast enough.

Donir whistled long and low. "I think we've found someone who can actually stomach your cooking, Uialon."

"Míron, will you gag your idiot friend."

"I am afraid a gag will not help much," Míron said with a wistful sigh. "Then we will be accosted by his pantomime, which I assure you, is even worse than his articulate jests."

With false sorrow, Donir clutched his chest. "You wound me, my friend."

Shaking his head, Uialon extended his hand towards the orcess. "Would you like some more?" Nodding, she passed him her bowl and he filled it up again. Rukhash restrained herself this time, not feeling quite so ravenous. She didn't know what Donir was griping about. Uialon was a pretty good cook.

Glancing towards Cadoc, she found him smiling softly at her. Hedon gave her a solemn nod, though he said nothing. Rukhash found there was a lot she wanted to say to Hedon, but didn't want to do it in front of a large group.

Faramir and Éowyn were talking quietly about the return trip, their son back home and Rukhash didn't want to eavesdrop any more than that. Donir continued to tease the poor cook while Belegorn struck up a match and started to smoke. The rangers had packed up most of their gear. Their horses were tied up nearby, ready for the long trek home.

"They will be leaving soon," Cadoc told her quietly, as she finished her meal, and Rukhash gave him a small, reassuring smile. There was a hint of sorrow in his voice – he had enjoyed the company of his friends last night – and she felt that nagging guilt return. She knew, if he could, if he thought there was a way that would not end badly, Cadoc would prefer to stay in his own country. But it was too risky, and Rukhash would not suggest that they go with Faramir and his men.

Breakfast ended slowly, with one man after another standing and stretching and collecting the last of his things to pack onto his respective horse. Cadoc left Rukhash with Hedon to see to their own provisions, insisting that she rest while he looked after things. At a loss, she turned towards him with a penitent expression.

"I'm sorry fer what I said," she mumbled, glad that they were alone.

"I could say the same," Hedon told her. "And there was some truth in your harsh words," he admitted. "The more I think on it, the more I feel that none of us are guiltless."

She nodded at that and found, suddenly, all the words she thought to say were caught in her throat. He was a decent bloke, Hedon. Stubborn as an old ass, but then, Rukhash had been called the same by most who knew her. She wondered if part of the reason they did not get on all that well was the fact that they were more alike than either of them would admit.

She had meant to tell him as much when she noticed the deep frown on his face as he observed something over her shoulder. Hedon rose suddenly to his feet. Sensing his alarm, Rukhash rose with him and turned to see Cadoc struggling to put a pack on his back. Of all the stupid... She followed in Hedon's brisque strides, approaching Cadoc.

"The fuck do you think yer doin'!" she barked at him.

"Give me that," Hedon growled as he snatched the oversized pack away from Cadoc. "I told you: keep the mare. Let  _her_  carry this burden for you."

"I am not sure how well she will do on a mountain," Cadoc argued.

"Then," Hedon said tightly, "let her carry your things until the path becomes too rocky and turn her loose. I am sure she will find her own way to a stable somewhere."

"Do as 'e says, Cadoc," Rukhash insisted and Hedon nodded at her before striding over to the tawny horse he had brought with him, securing the packs onto her back.

Lord Faramir and most of his men were mounted already, but Belegorn and Éowyn stood waiting by their horses. Rukhash glanced about at the people assembled. She supposed it was time for goodbyes.

_Skai_ ,this was going to be _awful._

Cadoc took Lady Éowyn's hand and thanked her. While he was busy shaking hands with Belegorn, Rukhash stole in and offered her own hand to Éowyn. The woman startled her with a fierce embrace. "Take care of yourself and your husband, my friend."

Rukhash blinked and lightly patted her back. "You too…"

Éowyn swung easily into her saddle. With a solemn nod, Faramir bid them farewell.

"I wish you luck, captain," he told Cadoc in the soft, even tenor Rukhash had come to associate with him. "Perhaps, one day, we might speak of your exploits in Mordor."

"Perhaps," Cadoc replied quietly, sounding as if he doubted it would come to pass. "Thank you for your assistance, my lord."

The prince shook his head lightly, but whether it was with regret or acknowledgement, Rukhash couldn't tell. Faramir whirled his horse and rode off into the forest, taking most of the group with him. In a blink they were gone, and Rukhash breathed a little sigh of relief. Hedon had hung back, insisting that he would catch up.

"I will miss you," he said, clasping Cadoc's shoulder, and Rukhash swore his eyes were shimmering a little. Great, stiff necked Hedon… Rukhash didn't think he had the ability cry.

Cadoc embraced him, looking more like a much younger brother than an older mentor compared to his size. "I will say farewell to you now," Cadoc told him, "but I will hope that this is not the last time we meet in this life."

"I will hope the same," Hedon agreed. "And I will keep a spare pipe handy for when it comes to pass." Then, appraising his friend, he turned to Rukhash. "Do something for his eye, will you, orc? He should not go through life with this ridiculous bandage."

Though Éowyn had changed his dressing, Rukhash had to admit, Cadoc did look a little silly with half his face covered in white gauze. "I'll think'a somethin'," she said softly, a small, amused smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

With a sigh, Hedon stepped back from Cadoc and approached her, laying his large hand on her shoulder. "I wish you well, orc," he said. "I might say I like you a little better now than I did, but not as much as I would prefer, considering you are the wife of my closest comrade."

"Well... maybe next time I see ya, you'll like me better'n you do know," she said and, feeling suddenly emotional, wrapped her long arms around his waist. "Stupid ox," she growled, "I'm gonna miss you."

Hedon bore her attentions stoically, lightly patting her between the shoulder blades. She stepped back, finally over her outburst, and wiped her eyes. "Take care of my friend... and yourself," he told her.

"I will," she promised.

With a final clasp on Cadoc's shoulder and a look that said more than words could, Hedon turned from the pair of them to mount his own, monstrous stallion and headed after his lord and his comrades. Rukhash and Cadoc stood, watching him ride off, until he vanished into the dense forest.

"He's a good lad, that one," she admitted.

"The best," Cadoc agreed.

* * *

They had been riding swiftly the better part of the day, intent in reaching Emyn Arnen well before their lord. Calon was leading the group on Lord Faramir's orders, and Rivalon felt a little swell of pride for his partner. Their lord had been giving him the command of more and more missions lately, and Rivalon imagined it was only a matter of time before he was made a captain officially.

Stopping to water their horses, Rivalon was startled to hear a large group of horses approach them. Had Lord Faramir caught up with them so quickly? Exchanging a curious look with Calon, he unbuckled his sword. The men with them did the same.

What rode into the glen that they rested in was a group of ten, grim faced men. Men was a poor word. To Rivalon, they looked like boys, barely grown into riding breeches. But at their head was a young man he knew quite well. Dellon sat on a black stallion, swathed in a black cloak and vest with the white tree of Gondor embroidered on the front. A knight's uniform. How ridiculous he looked, regaled in the trappings of upper class comfort, with silver buckles on his horse's reins and a sword that looked too large for him.

At least, that was how Rivalon saw him. To Calon, Dellon looked like death for his friend and his wife. They had left Cadoc, still hindered by his injury, several hours ago, and he had still been sleeping then. Lord Faramir had most likely parted ways with them by now, but how far could they have traveled on foot?

Schooling his face into a neutral expression, Calon afforded Dellon a courteous nod. "Well met, knight of Gondor," he greeted the young man.

"And you, Calon," Dellon said, his stern look cooling to a friendly expression. "It has been many years since I've seen you. What brings the rangers this far south? Do you search out Cadoc as well?"

Calon's words caught in his throat. It would be better to make no mention of Cadoc at all, but Lord Faramir had sent those ahead that were most troubled by Cadoc and Rukhash's relationship, hoping to spare the orcess an uncomfortable morning meal before they parted ways. Calon was not sure how silent they would be.

"Cadoc?" Rivalon queried, sounding confused. "Why, I have not seen Cadoc in nearly two years. Is he in some trouble?"

"Some trouble, indeed!" Dellon said grimly. "He has been ensnared by an orc witch. She controls his mind and has somehow convinced him to follow her into the depths of Mordor! It is our foul task to search them out and slay this creature, before she can do him further injury."

The rangers glanced among themselves. "That sounds like dread circumstance," Oreldir said soberly, approaching Dellon. "An orc that can use this manner of magic… I have never heard of such a thing."

"And yet, she exists," Dellon said, sounding put-out. "So I will assume you have not seen Cadoc?"

"No," Rivalon shook his head. "As I said, it was two seasons past that I saw him last. You, Celebas?"

"Not for three years," Celebas said, thoughtfully tapping his chin. "He rode north last year, I believe."

"Ah, he did at that!" Tuluston exclaimed brightly. "He sent me a letter from the far north. I have a cousin there, you know..."

"I am afraid we cannot help you, Dellon," Calon said cooly. "Though, I do hope you find him soon."

Dellon frowned deeply, his eyes searching the rangers assembled before him. "I could use seasoned swords on this mission," he said. "That orc is crafty and dangerous. What say you? Cadoc is a friend to all of us, and I could use your help."

Calon glanced at Rivalon, scratching his head thoughtfully. "I am afraid we have our orders," he said. "We cannot be turned from our current course. But... best of luck!"

"It was good seeing you again after so long," Salaben said dryly.

Scowling, Dellon glared at them. "I see," he said tightly. Kicking his horse forward, he and his men thundered further into the forest; not  _quite_  the direction Lord Faramir was in, but close enough.

Rivalon waited until they were well out of sight before speaking. "Lord Faramir will not lie to him, you know."

"I know," Calon said.

"And if his orders have come from Minas Tirith…"

"I know!" Calon growled and quickly mounted his horse, whirling around the way Dellon had gone.

"Calon!" Rivalon shouted, blocking his path.

"They will be  _alone_  Rivalon!" Calon insisted. "Cadoc still suffers from his injury. Rukhash is  _pregnant_. What will they do if Dellon finds them?"

"We should inform Lord Faramir," Tuluston interjected.

"By then it may be too late," Calon argued. He stared long and hard at Rivalon. "That orc has done nothing. I will not stand by and let such men put her head on a pike," he said soberly. "Think of Cadoc's grief! And what will they do to him when they find out she carries his _child_? Take the men to Emyn Arnen. I will go and warn Cadoc. He is taking the narrow path through the mountains. I know where that is."

"Let Celeben lead them," Rivalon growled. "I am going with you."

"Rivalon…"

"I promise to mind myself," he swore. "But I will not allow you to go alone."

Seeing the intensity and sincerity in his eyes, Calon acquiesced. "Celeben, you and Tuluston will ride to Emyn Arnen and make way for Lord Faramir," Calon ordered. "Oreldir, Salaben, you must double back and tell Lord Faramir who we have encountered and which way he is headed."

The men nodded, and Calon urged his horse forward. Rivalon's steed fell into step behind him as they followed Dellon into the wilderness.


	50. Waylaid

**Splint**

**Chapter 50: Waylaid**

* * *

When their trek began that morning, the scenery was pleasantly green. There were great hills of green, wispy grass and trees that dug their heavy roots into the heart of the earth, growing thick and tall. After only a morning of travel, the landscape had transformed to monoliths of stone and rock, great, grey giants that towered above the narrow path. The trees that grew here were tenacious things, clinging to the unforgiving face of rock by sheer will alone, and every gust of wind seemed as though it would loose them from their precarious perches.

Rukhash had never felt more at ease.

It seemed as though it had been a lifetime since she was back on her mountain, and though  _this_ mountain was leagues away, the sight was reassuring.  _I'm home_ , she thought, gazing over the miles upon miles of bleak, barren stone.

"Easy, easy," Cadoc patted the muzzle of their new steed reassuringly. She had slipped twice since they started in on this narrower stretch of road, her hoofs unaccustomed to sloping stone walkways. Cadoc was relieved the mare was so tiny. A larger horse would probably have fallen to its doom a mile back.

Rukhash had bounded ahead, her step easy and light. With the confidence of a mountain goat, she leapt atop a high boulder and looked out over the treacherous scenery. The look on her face… Cadoc was very sure he had, only rarely, seen her so blissfully content. When she doubled back to help him with Curudal, he could swear that she was glowing.

Cadoc had wondered how Rukhash would act around the horse, and the horse around her. After a rest stop of oat feeding and muzzle patting, Cadoc was surprised to find that they warmed to each other rather quickly. "She's not the prancing cunt most'a them others were," the orcess had said as she stroked the mare's head. Curudal had gently nudged her then, rubbing her nose against Rukhash's belly.

"How're we doin', my girl," the orcess asked the mare, scratching her whiskered chin as she took the reins from Cadoc.

"She had a bit of a stumble," Cadoc told her.

"Oh, now, my Cudgel, none a that," Rukhash nuzzled her nose and led a now calm horse forward.

"Rukhash," Cadoc said with a sigh, "her name is Curudal."

" _Skai_ , I like Cudgel better," the orcess sniffed. "'N so does she. Don't you, my Cudgel?" The horse nickered and bumped her head against the orcess's rear. Rukhash flashed him a cheeky smile.

"Well," Cadoc laughed, "if she prefers it, then Cudgel it is."

Rukhash pressed her palm to his back as they filed along. "How're you feelin'?" she asked anxiously.

Cadoc imagined she must have noticed his stiff gait. "Well enough, all considered," he said. "I just took a little more of the medicine Lady Éowyn left me."

"Be careful wit' that," his  _shaûk_  warned. "Too much medicine fer pain ain't no good fer ya."

"I will be careful," he promised and reached back to clasp her hand. "This is, sadly, not my first set of bruised ribs. I know how much of this sort of medicine I can take. Besides," he added, "too much makes me foggy. I prefer to have my wits about me."

"Wish I had some draught ta give ya," the orcess mumbled.

They walked in companionable silence as the sun climbed higher. He had tried to bring up Thraangzi and his vision earlier, but Rukhash had quickly brushed it off with an uncomfortable look. He decided now was not the time to delve into that particular wound. Perhaps, after a time, when she could look upon what happened with only dulled heartbreak, she would be ready to talk about it.

Eventually, the path widened out as it descended into plateau covered in coarse crabgrass and tough shrubs. Calling them to a stop, Cadoc unpacked some of the rations they were given by Lady Éowyn and went about setting up some lunch. A small stream slithered like a shimmering serpent through the center of the clearing they had found. Rukhash immediately pulled off her boots to dip her feet in the cool water while Cudgel wandered a short distance to find a patch of greener grass to chew on.

He built a small fire to heat a few strips of salted pork. Rukhash had stretched out while she waited, laying back on the rocky shore with her feet half submerged in the shallow water. Cadoc smiled softly at the small rise of her belly. He imagined she must be exhausted after the past week. Pulling their lunch from the fire, he wandered over to sit next to her.

Lancing her lunch on a sharpened dowel, he passed her the pork. She didn't bother sitting up. Snatching it from his hand she took a healthy bite, chewing loudly. "It were nice a yer friends to leave us that slab."

"It was," Cadoc agreed.

"Wish they'd left some a that deer," she grumbled in between mouthfuls.

"We had nothing to preserve it, I'm afraid. It wouldn't have kept."

"Aw now," the orcess rumbled dismissively, "the meat's great after a few days of rotting. Adds to the flavor."

Cadoc glanced at her askew. "Unfortunately, I do not have your iron stomach."

She shrugged and licked her fingers, tossing the wooden stick into the stream. Cadoc made short work of his own meal while Rukhash napped lightly. When he had thrown his stick after hers, he looked down to find her staring intently at his wounded eye.

"I'm gonna make you a nice patch,' she said suddenly. "So's I don't have ta look at that dirty rag no more."

Cadoc pressed his fingers to the rough cloth he had wrapped over the bandage on his face. "I do not mind it," he said quietly.

" _I_  mind it," she insisted. "I'll make you somethin' really classy, don't you worry."

Cadoc ran his thumb along her knotted brow. "I am sure anything you fashion will be more than appropriate." Her hand suddenly shot up and snatched his where it rested on her forehead. She gripped tightly, and Cadoc could feel the light nick of her sharp claws where they glanced his palm. Rukhash said nothing, but there was an intense look on her face, something like sorrow or regret.

"Don't," Cadoc insisted, seeing she was about to speak. "I can see the apology in your face, and I do not want to hear you ask forgiveness. Not for what your brother did to me or for what happened yesterday."

"It's just so fucked up," she whispered.

Cadoc lowered next to her and kissed her cheek, embracing her. "I know," he said. "Do you wish to speak of it? Because I will listen to anything you have to say, even if your words are harsh."

Her gaze settled on the lazy clouds above.  _"Nar_ ," she rumbled quietly. "Not right now."

Pressing his forehead to hers, Cadoc sighed, knowing that she was avoiding the issue, but not wanting to push her too much. Her arm snaked around him suddenly, and Rukhash pulled herself up to press her lips to his. Cadoc blinked at her when she pulled away, the gentle pressure of her palm against his jaw as she ran her thumb along his cheekbone. "Yer my Cadoc," she told him, her eyes shimmering.

"My Rukhash," Cadoc whispered, and leaned forward to kiss her again. She responded more enthusiastically than he would have expected, opening her mouth to him as she reached between his legs. She maneuvered herself beneath him as they fondled one another and pressed her body against his with enough force to jostle his ribs a little too much. The pain sliced through his budding arousal like a thunderclap and Cadoc jumped back, sucking air through his teeth as he rolled away from her.

" _Shit_ ," she hissed, sitting up quickly. "Are you arright?"

He released a long breath through his nose. "Yes," he sighed. "I am sorry, Rukhash. I don't think I am in the shape for  _that_."

A pained little noise warbled in her throat. "I'm the one should be sayin' sorry. I didn't think I squeezed ya that tight."

The pain subsided to a dull throb, and Cadoc turned to her with a strained smile. "Give me a few days," he promised.

The corners of her mouth turned up with soft affection and she nodded. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "It's just… I feel like we ain't been alone in a million years."

Cadoc pinched her chin fondly. "Not  _so_  long, but it  _has_  been an exhausting several days, and I was only awake for half of them." Glancing up, he frowned slightly. "We should get going and try to find shelter before evening."

"Yea," she agreed. Turning towards the mare, who had wandered to the far edge of the clearing, Rukhash cupped her hand next to her mouth and yelled, " _Oi, Cudgel!_  Get yer wide arse back here!"

The horse lifted her head and trotted towards them. Cadoc blinked and glanced down at the orcess standing next to him. "You have quite a way with her."

"I'm gonna start teachin' her orcish," she said definitively.

"Are you?"

"Fuck yea, I am. If a flea-brained Warg can speak it, I bet a smart girl like that can too. Can't you, my girl?" The mare sloshed through the stream to stand before Rukhash. Cupping the beast's hairy chin, the orcess raised her head so their noses touched. Cudgel favored her with a soft nicker and the orcess thrummed back.

"I did not think you would warm to her so much," Cadoc confessed as he took the lead reins in his hand. "I thought you hated horses."

"Well, all the horses I met so far were arseholes," she said, falling into step beside the mare. "They was always buggerin' out when I was around. Made me real nervous, what with them big ol' hoofs stompin' like they wanted ta crush my 'ead."

The orcess wrapped her arm under the mare's neck. "But not my sweet Cudgel. She come right up an' 'et outta my hand like we was always friends. An' back when my ankle was busted, she were real gentle underneath me. Didn't mind ridin' her so much. She knows her Rukhash won't hurt 'er, don't she?" The mare snorted. "See? That's a smart girl there. I bet she'll speak orcish better'n you."

Cadoc laughed and patted Cudgel's shaggy withers. "Well, she won't have to try very hard," he admitted.

"How long do horses live?" Rukhash asked, her eyes on the mare.

"It depends,' Cadoc said. "Cudgel is on the older side, but she is in very good condition. I imagine she has many years ahead of her."

With quiet contemplation, Rukhash brushed her fingers along the mare's spiky mane. "How long do Men live?"

Pausing, Cadoc turned to look at her. "That depends as well," he replied softly. "Men of noble bloodlines can live well past one hundred, while others of lesser lines will reach their end much sooner."

"How much sooner?"

Her gaze did not meet his, but Cadoc could see the sorrow written on her face. He embraced her, pressing his cheek to the crown of her head. "I will be with you for a long time to come, if I have any say in it," he told her. "But if it worries you, I will remind you that I am still in my prime."

He felt her smile against his chest. "Tough ol' codger," she said. "Never mind it, I don't know why I bothered asking."

"Rukhash, I will not leave you alone," Cadoc said softly. "We're in this together, remember?" He kissed her gently on the lips. "My  _shaûk_." She grinned at him, looking a little dark in the cheeks. There was a fierce thump where her abdomen pressed against him and Cadoc blinked at her belly. "Someone is awake,' he said.

"Yea, an' we'd better git goin'," she sighed. "Air's smellin' wet, an' I'd rather not get caught up in no storm."

Cadoc frowned at the blue sky. "Are you sure?"

"Trust me," she said, tapping her index finger against her nostril, "the nose don't lie." Cudgel snorted and bumped her hip. "Oi, Cudgel," the orcess grumbled, annoyed. "We didn't forget you was here."

The horse shook her head nervously and stamped her foot. Cadoc had to grip her reins to keep the mare from suddenly bolting. "Easy, girl!" he said, stroking her long nose. "What's the matter?"

Frowning, Rukhash pitched her ears in the direction they had come from. "You've gotta be bleedin'  _kiddin' me_ ," she hissed.

"Rukhash?" Turning, Cadoc realized that he could see dark shapes descending from the trail. Even from the great distance they were at, he knew it was not Lord Faramir come to talk him into riding to Minas Tirith. These riders wore black. "Run!" he cried and pulled his blade from it's sheath.

"You ain't stayin' here to fight 'em!"

"No," Cadoc agreed, his ribs throbbing, "I am not! Take your bow. They may catch up with us."

Rukhash pulled her bow and quiver from where it was stashed on Cudgel's back and slung it over her shoulder. Cadoc ushered her first down the path that picked up on the far side of the clearing, following with their horse. A horn bellowed, and Cadoc knew that they were spotted. Their one grace was the terrain. The trail was narrow and rocky, and if Dellon and his group were anything like most knights of Gondor, they would be riding tall, sleek horses bred for battle. With any luck, their steeds would slow them down, but Cadoc knew he could not wholly count on that. If he were in Dellon's place, he would stash his horses in the clearing and follow them, much more quickly, on foot.

The next few hours were spent climbing the trail, near breathless as they looked over their shoulders. The path wove serpentine through the rocky peaks, and every turn they made hid their sight behind, but Cadoc knew that the orc hunters were getting closer. Cudgel kept stumbling and Cadoc finally pushed her ahead, taking the rear. A few times, he thought he spotted a dark cloak against the grey stone, but the men chasing could never quite catch up with their hurried pace.

Then, the trail ended.

Quite abruptly, and with no warning, they were faced with a series of boulders blocking their path, the landscape nothing but stacks of broken, flat stone and sheer cliffs with no handholds whatsoever. Cadoc blinked at the insurmountable obstacle in their way. It would seem there was nowhere else to go. Rukhash was, fortunately, not so daunted.

Pulling the packs off of Cudgel's back, she rifled out a long rope. She kissed the horse roughly on the neck. "Guess you won't be learnin' no orcish, my girl," she said before wrapping the rope around the packs and tying the other end to her waist.

Cadoc had no idea what she was doing. "Rukhash, what are you…"

Leaping bodily onto the rock, she scurried up its face easily and was soon at the top. "I'll tie this off up 'ere an' you climb up!' she shouted down at him. Cadoc blinked at her and nodded dumbly.

He could hear shouts, and someone yelled, "I see them!" Cadoc glanced anxiously towards the top of the boulder. "Rukhash!" he hollered. "Sooner is better than later!"

Her head popped over the precipice. "Yer solid! Git up here!"

Sheathing his sword, Cadoc sucked up his pain and climbed that rope faster than he had climbed anything in all his life. As he reached the apex, Rukhash grabbed his bicep and pulled him over the edge. He collapsed breathlessly, barely able to breathe and only half aware of Rukhash's arms whirling frantically as she pulled up their gear and belongings.

"Bugger off Cudgel," she yelled down at the horse. "You don't gotta carry no one's shit no more!"

The last Cadoc saw of Cudgel was her rear as she headed back the way they had come, passing three men as they approached the boulder blocking the path. The men stared up at them, glaring. Dellon was among them, and there were more men coming down from the trail.

"Cadoc!" Dellon bellowed. "I will give you this chance to surrender yourself and your orc!"

Rallying himself, Cadoc rose to his feet. "You can answer that, if you like," he told Rukhash as he turned his back on Dellon and shouldered a pack.

She grinned at him and glared down at the men below, careful to keep her head at an angle they could not hit with an arrow. "Suck it, you nancy, wanking tits!" Shouldering her own pack, she started jogging along the great, granite stones that littered the path for as far as Cadoc could see. He followed after her.

"What did that even  _mean_?" he asked, feeling oddly exuberant, despite the nagging throb of his injury. It would take those men hours to double back and find another way after them.

"The fuck does it matter?" Rukhash snuffed. "It  _sounded_  good."

* * *

Calon and Rivalon saw the smoke first. Oddly, Calon felt no dread at this. The wisps were white and small and a part of him felt oddly relieved, even before they came upon the men situated near a small stream in an open clearing. The terrain had been treacherous thus far. Calon hoped that Dellon had given up, especially now that it was raining and well past dusk. The men with Dellon greeted them respectfully and offered them a place under their tent and near their fire.

"Fonor is my name," one of the men introduced himself. "And you have a place with us, rangers. Have you come to join us?"

"Yes…" Calon said warily, glancing towards Rivalon.

"You've come too late," another man replied sourly. "Cadoc and his beast evaded us."

"We don't know that yet," Fonor assured his comrade. "Dellon and Aewion are still looking…"

There was a long, loud  _halooo_  outside. Rising, Calon glanced out of the tent and saw the two men just spoken of striding across the clearing. There was a bright gash on Dellon's head, and a younger man – Aewion, Calon guessed – supported him as they made their way through the rain towards camp.

Dellon caught sight of him and blinked, surprised. "Calon!"

"Yes, Calon said, moving aside so the younger man could enter. "And Rivalon is with me. I will guess you've had no luck. How did you come upon that injury?"

"This mountain is impassable," Dellon grumbled. "I lost my footing and was very luck that I did not fall further than I did. Aewion saved my life." Dellon nodded towards the younger man and Calon caught the blush on Aewion's face.

 _Oh… you poor, young fool_ , Calon thought wryly.  _You have no idea who you fancy_.

Calon had lost touch with Dellon over the last few years, but the man he remembered thought only of hunting orcs, of the tactics to use against them, the best techniques to fell them. On the rare occasions when their paths crossed, there were long conversations on that subject alone. Even Rivalon, who had never cared much for orcs as a whole and easily professed his distaste for their race, found Dellon overbearing and exhausting. Calon could not remember ever seeing Dellon with a partner, either a woman or a man, his quest for vengeance was _that_ great.

"Well," Rivalon spoke up from his place near the fire, "I am sorry to hear it." he did not sound particularly sorry at all. Calon would have to tell him to lie a little better.

Dellon didn't seem to notice Rivalon's lack of enthusiasm. Stomping to the corner, he wet a rag and pressed it to the wound on his head. "I don't know what to do," he admitted, looking to Calon. "The land further east is rife with orcs, and we are too few, even with you and Rivalon joining us. I do not want to risk the men that follow me."

"That is wise," Calon told him. "It would be cruel to expect  _these_  men to jeopardize their lives over _one man_."

"It is more than that," Dellon said, approaching Calon with an almost wild fervor. "This is  _Cadoc_. How powerful is that witch, that she could twist his soul to such a state?"

Calon shook his head, unsure of what to say. Rukhash was an emotional creature and blunt nearly to a fault, but Calon saw no deception in her interactions with Cadoc. For all of his distrust and distaste over the matter, even Rivalon – after seeing them together – had to admit that Cadoc stayed with her of his own will. But better not to speak of that. Calon knew, no matter how much they professed in Rukhash's favor, Dellon would not be swayed. If anything, he may accuse them of being bewitched as well, and Calon did not want to come to such an altercation outnumbered and in the middle of the wilderness. Even now, after being accepted into their camp, Calon could feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"I suppose he is beyond our reach," Calon said. "As much as it pains me to admit such a thing. Cadoc is a friend to me and to Rivalon also. We have known him many years, but I am not sure I would dare whatever lives on the eastern slopes of these mountains."

Dellon nodded solemnly. "I will just have to wait," he said darkly.

"Wait?" Calon frowned, confused. "For what?"

"For Cadoc to reveal himself," Dellon said. "Or, for the king to take hold of his senses, and finally clear the orcs out of Nûrn once and for all."

"The people of Nûrn put an end to the orc hunts years ago," Rivalon reasoned.

"Trust me," Dellon said, "they will come to regret it. They will ask for our aid, and we will be happy to give it. I will find that orc witch," he said heatedly, "and I will make her pay for what she did to my teacher. And Cadoc will pay as well, for throwing away all he should hold dear in favor of this abominable union. They will not escape me."

Calon glanced quickly in Rivalon's direction, and saw his own thoughts reflected in his lover's face. Dellon was absolutely, raving  _mad_. The young knight in front of them refused to let this go? What reason was there to pursue Cadoc any further? In reality, he had done  _nothing_ , merely pledged himself to a partner that would meet with little or no public approval. What was the greater harm in _that_?

 _Wherever you are, Cadoc,_  Calon thought.  _You had best stay hidden._

* * *

The elation of their escape faded as they hastened over the landscape. The terrain was difficult, and Cadoc had to stop often to catch his breathe. Rukhash was holding onto his medicine now, worried that he was taking too much. The rain she had scented earlier came upon them in a great wave, and they were forced to spend part of the early evening beneath a rocky eave as it began to pour in earnest. They ate a silent, cold supper and started out again the moment the rain had stopped.

They traveled in this fashion for all of the night and into the next morning. Running ceaselessly, never stopping for more than a few moments, and Cadoc felt as though his entire ribcage were on fire. The dawn had brought more clouds and by noon it had grown as dark as midnight. Now they traveled along a narrow crack between two mountains, and there were no convenient ledges to keep the rain off of them.

Cadoc drew Rukhash away from the gully in the center of the trail and draped their cloaks over their heads and the packs on their backs. She huddled close to him, shivering slightly in the cold rain, and Cadoc wrapped his arm around her waist as they continued walking at a slower pace.

"We'll find some shelter soon," he assured her, but they found no shelter. As the rain peppered to a stop, they had climbed out of the gully and into a forest of stones, the rocks forming half sturdy structures that resembled archways and tall towers. They were bizarre formations, but a natural ones. Cadoc and Rukhash passed through this area like quiet shadows, as though a single breath might topple the towers of rock around them. There were numerous signs of old avalanches, and Cadoc did not feel safe stopping until they climbed atop another ridge that towered over.

Finally, near nightfall, after two days of little food and less sleep, they came upon a small cave. Cadoc nearly wept with joy.

Rukhash  _did_  weep with joy. "We can stop now, yea?" she asked tearfully and Cadoc nodded. He was certainly ready to rest as well. He felt as though he could sleep for a whole day.

Cadoc had the presence of mind to stash some kindling and a log of dry wood in his pack before they had set out over the mountain. He had a fire crackling just as the rain started up anew. Rukhash pulled out their sleeping rolls, which were damp, but would dry soon, and laid their wet clothes out next to the fire. She was naked now except for her loincloth, and Cadoc had stripped to his under shorts. Their spare clothes were damp, and Rukhash laid those out as well. Nearly everything in their packs was at least a little wet. The last item she pulled from her rucksack was the leather bound picture book Cadoc had given her all those months ago. It was a little worse for wear, but the gold inlay still glittered against the dark cover. She laid it out with their clothes. Cadoc was a little startled to realize that all they owned could fit in a small ring around a fire.

"Fuckin' rain," the orcess grumbled as she settled next to him.

"I know," Cadoc said softly, wrapping his arm around her naked shoulder. "But it is a blessing as well. No one will be able to track us in this weather, no matter how well he has been trained. I will suffer a wet shirt for that assurance."

She nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder. They sat drying before the fire along with their possessions, and Cadoc found himself staring dully into the flames, nearly ready to pass out. Rukhash had beaten him to that. She snored quietly from her place at his side.

Her stomach growled like an angry warg, and she startled awake, breaking Cadoc from his random, mindless dozing. "We should eat," he said dully and rose to gather a pot from one of the packs. He set it just outside the cave to fill with water. They had a little grain and dried meat left, and perhaps some salt if the container had stayed mostly dry. Cadoc felt his own stomach rumble. Just the  _thought_  of eating made his mouth water.

Cadoc swallowed a little medicine while Rukhash gathered up those clothes that were dry and packed them away, leaving a tunic out for her own use. She pulled a small, clay pot from her rucksack and checked the contents, smiling slightly. "Soaps still good," she rumbled and walked into the downpour.

"Rukhash, that rain is freezing,' Cadoc admonished. "You're going to get sick."

"Won't get sick," she insisted as she stripped her loincloth and let the rain soak her again. She gathered a heaping palmful of soap and began to lather her body, starting with her hair. Their meal assembled and simmering, Cadoc stepped outside to join her.

"Ain't  _you_  gonna get sick?" she teased.

"I am certainly sick of the way I  _smell_ ," he said as he removed the bandage from his eye. cadoc realized he could not feel where the rain struck his wound. Rukhash was frowning at the injury. "Is it alright?" Cadoc asked, lightly touching the hard flesh of his scar.

"Healed up 'bout as good as it's gonna get," she replied and led him by the arm to sit on a small stone next to her. "Let me do your hair," she said, and before he could protest, her claws were scrubbing his scalp.

Now that he was used to it, the rain really didn't feel all that cold. His eye fluttered shut as Rukhash's sharp nails ran through his hair, and Cadoc was not sure if he felt aroused or exhausted. A little of both, perhaps. Her hands traveled down his back and then snaked around to scrub between his legs, and Cadoc sucked in a breath.

"You're hairy  _everywhere_ ," she said, and Cadoc could hear the playfulness in her voice, even as it was laced with weariness. He chuckled quietly, feeling suddenly  _quite_  alert. Reaching back, he maneuvered her to stand in front of him and pressed his mouth to the swell of her abdomen and then to the juncture between her legs. Rukhash made a thrilled, mewling noise and opened herself to him, and the taste of her arousal mixed with the cool rain and the light, clean flavor of the soap had his erection rising in earnest.

He pulled her onto his lap, and she was careful to keep her weight off of him, resting her palms lightly on his shoulders as she took him inside her. It felt as if they had not done this in a lifetime, and though her strokes were shallow, careful of the life she carried, Cadoc soon found himself coming to completion, clutching her to his chest and burying his face in the valley between her breasts as he finished with a strained grunt.

He blinked up at her. "I'm sorry," he said, realizing that she had not reached her peak yet. Rukhash smiled and eased off of him.

"It's fine," she said, rinsing between her legs again. "Let's dry off, yea?"

There was a little disappointment in her voice, and Cadoc knew he could not leave it at that. Sitting by the warmth of the fire, Cadoc found he could not keep his hands from her. He kissed the curve of her neck, the hollow of her throat and she did not stop him from traveling further south. He was annoyed to find he was too weary to rise to the occasion again, but remained undaunted. He used his mouth to draw gentle noises from her throat, and then his hand to penetrate her. Rukhash writhed and cried out, clutching his wrist and stilling his movements as she came to a slow, shuddering climax.

Crawling up her body, he left a lingering kiss on her lips. "Supper should be finished," he said lightly and she laughed, a bright, happy sound that made his chest swell.

"Good," she said. "I'm bleedin' starved."

It was not the best concoction he had ever come up with, but that hardly mattered. They ate like they were racing towards a finish line. Once they had shored up supper, Cadoc dressed, pulling on his breeches, and went about cleaning up their pot and bowls. Rukhash had pulled on his dry shirt.

"Your leathers are still wet?" he asked.

"I hope they ain't ruined," she grumbled. "You don't mind, do ya?"

"Not at all," he said and meant it. Rukhash never bothered with the lacing around the neck, so his shirt fell gracefully off her shoulder. She swam a little in the fabric, but Cadoc found the sight of her in his clothes oddly attractive. Even more so than when she was dressed elegantly for the winter festival. Her damp hair clung to her neck; her black skin was warm in the firelight; her belly pressed a little against the cloth, and Cadoc was very sure she had never looked more beautiful.

They packed their belongings away, draping Rukhash's wet tunics over the packs so they could finish drying. Cadoc was relieved to find their bedrolls dry as he turned in, but Rukhash hovered over her tunics, pulling one from the pile. She drew her knife and cut a considerable amount off of the hem.

"What are you doing?" Cadoc asked her.

She glanced up at him, her attention fixed on the wounded side of his face. "This one's getting too small fer me," she said. "Thought I'd make you a patch."

"Right now?" Cadoc was nearly ready to drop. He could not imagine sitting up for a few more hours to do something so unnecessary. "Is it bothering you?" he asked. "I thought a little air might do it good, but I can wrap it again if it is too gruesome."

"It ain't  _gruesome_ ," she said. "It makes me sad."

Cadoc snatched the rolled cloth where he had left it by the bedroll and tied it over his scar. "Leave that until morning," he insisted. Lifting his arm, he beckoned her to his side. Rukhash abandoned her project without protest and slipped next to him.

His ribs still ached, but not enough that he could not pull her close. He wrapped his arm around her and drew her against his side. "I love you," he whispered softly.

She squeezed his hand. "I know," she said, a small, sad smile on her face, " _shaûkizub_."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

" _Nar_ ," she answered quickly. "Right now I wanna sleep fer a hundred years."

"Or, at least, the night," he amended. She grinned at that and kissed his cheek.

He wished she would rave at him, vent her anger. He did not want to press the issue, but he also did not want the specter of Thraangzi to taint their happiness. He could not resent a dead man, but he also did not want to excuse what happened or brush it off. The shade of her brother still hung over them, and Cadoc wanted it cast out. He could not undo what was done, but he also felt as though Thraangzi had eventually found some measure of peace. At least, if his vision was anything to go by.

Rukhash was asleep already. Though Cadoc thought his dark musings would keep him up a little longer, the second his head hit the rolled blanket they shared as a pillow, he slept the sleep of the dead.

* * *

Something was in her mouth. Not something, leather, dirty and foul tasting. Her hands were being pulled behind her and before she could react, twine was wrapped around her wrists, tight and biting into her flesh. Orcs. The smell of orcs was everywhere. There were gruff voices, speaking a dialect that she could not identify. A few, laughing insults were familiar, but other than those swears, she could understand nothing.

With frantic, half awareness, Rukhash caught sight of Cadoc, also bound and gagged, as he writhed in the grip of a dark shape. He was pulled into a crack in the wall and Rukhash was being dragged after him. Blindly, she wriggled and kicked out at the short, broad figures that had captured her. They laughed and someone smacked her hard on the rear. Quivering with rage, she roared through her gag, and the orcs laughed even louder.

The stone floor beneath her was rough and uneven, rubbing the skin on her thighs raw. She was pulled down, down, down through hole after hole. All around her it was pitch black, and Rukhash could only make out muddy shapes, the orcs around her nothing but squat, wide silhouettes.. She strained to catch a whiff of Cadoc, but the unwashed stink of her captors was too overpowering.

The echoing voices around her were joined by more voices as she was dragged deeper into the mountain. A red light glinted on the walls, firelight, and the shapes of her attackers became more distinct. The male that held her was old, wide faced, with his right eye scarred over by skin. A younger male next to him leered at her, his yellow teeth glistening. As the light became brighter, the additional voices became louder, and now there were females hovering on the edge of her vision, some young, with firm tits and black hair and others old and grey around the ears. They were long armed, larger goblins – proper Mordor orcs – moving about on their knuckles as Rukhash's father had. Their features were much different than his, with wide faces and lower jaws broad and jutting out.

Rukhash was thrown violently next to Cadoc, and she grunted through her gag. A monstrously wide-shouldered male, black skinned and black haired with sharp, mocking eyes appeared before her, looming. A sash over his shoulder sported teeth and half broken skulls of orcs and men sewn into the leather.

He stood tall and glanced over his shoulder, saying something Rukhash could not understand and the whole of the den burst into laughter, their eyes fixed on him as if waiting for the go ahead to tear her and Cadoc apart.  _Chief_ , Rukhash thought, appraising him immediately. He certainly had a chief's swagger.

"Welly, well, well," the chief said in common, returning to hover above her. "Look what we have here. A little Isengard girl, if I know my girls," he sneered at her, licking his teeth, "and I  _know_  my girls. You wanna tell me what yer doin', Isengarder, fuckin' this stinkin'  _tark_  on our back porch?"

With careless violence, he pulled the gag off of her mouth and Rukhash's head snapped and banged against the stone floor. He cuffed her hard across the brow. "Answer!" the chief barked.

For a moment, Rukhash blinked at him. She didn't expect a chance to explain herself. "We was just passing through!" she said quickly. "Didn't know no one lived here. We ain't lookin' fer no trouble!"

"Oi, chief," a voice called. A younger male pulled something from their pile of belongings. Rukhash was horrified to see it was Cadoc's sword.

"You wanna explain  _that_?" the chief snarled at her. "Your draggin' a bleedin'  _ranger_  behind you." The chief grabbed her roughly around the throat and pulled her forward so their faces were inches apart. "What're you, some bloody  _tark_  spy?"

A rasping, familiar voice growled from the rear of the cave, "She ain't no  _spy_."

Rukhash was dropped to the ground, and though her head spun a little, she was alert enough to see a stooped, white haired female push her way to the front of the crowd. Rukhash nearly choked on shock. How the hell had  _she_  survived the Fall?

"Grazad?" she whispered, disbelieving.

The old orcess grinned at her, and Rukhash thought she looked even more ancient than she remembered. "Well, girl," she said, "fancy seeing you again."

Grazad whirled suddenly on the chief. "I know this one,' she said. "She's a good egg. Real clever. Had her under me in Lúgburz."

The chief eyed Rukhash skeptically. "Yea?" he said, sounding unconvinced. He turned to glare at a still-gagged Cadoc. "What's with  _him_."

"He's my  _shaûk_ ," Rukhash said, raising her chin a little.

A communal, blinking silence fell on the orcs in the cave. The chief recovered himself quickly. "Yer  _shaûk_? What are you, bleedin' queer?"

"She always were a little queer," Grazad confirmed, shrewdly appraising Cadoc.

"Why've you got a stinkin' ranger's sword? Is yer  _shaûk_  a bloody  _ranger_?" the chief asked suspiciously.

Rukhash glared. "That's ours fair an' square," she said.

"Is it? Where'd it come from?"

"It were his own fault for followin' after me," she said ambiguously, her face grim.

A smaller male stepped up from behind Grazad. "She ain't lyin'."

And it was true. Rukhash had not lied to them, merely omitted a good chunk of truth. Orcs could smell a lie if it was blatant enough, and Rukhash never possesed the skill to hide one. She let her words hang in the air, and much to her relief, the chief was putting his own story in place. She could see it in his eyes. "So where'd you pick him up?" he asked, thrusting his chin at Cadoc.

"He had a bad fall'n I patched up his broke leg. We been together since."

The chief eyed the subtle mount of her belly and cast a sidelong glance towards Grazad. "You speakin' fer 'em?"

Grazad said nothing, her stare boring into Rukhash, intense and thoughtful. Rukhash willed a plea through her eyes.  _Please, you old hag_ , she thought desperately.  _I got lashes that you owe me for._

Cautiously, slowly, the ancient orcess nodded. "I'll speak fer 'em."


	51. The Lion's Den

**Splint**

**Chapter 51: The Lion's Den**

* * *

 

 

There was a small weight on his chest. Opening his good eye, Cadoc was startled to come face to face with a pair of bright, red orbs. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Cadoc realized those orbs were attached to a tiny, naked orc sitting on his chest, its glowing eyes impossibly round and staring. Cadoc blinked at the little orc and the little orc slowly blinked back.

After Grazad had vouched for him and Rukhash, she led them, still tied, to her hole in the main den, a small cave that sat back from the busier section of honeycombed holes. It afforded her a good deal of privacy. There she had untied them, fed them and ordered them to 'get some shut-eye', telling Rukhash they would talk once she calmed down a little. Rukhash had been in tears with thanks, and Cadoc thought Grazad seemed a little off her stride in the wake of her former pupil's unabashed weeping.

Oddly, Cadoc had no trouble sleeping, even with nearly six dozen orcs in the surrounding caves. They seemed perfectly content to avoid him and Rukhash altogether now that the prospect of ripping them to pieces was over. The moment he laid down, his body had, simply, given out on him.

How long had this little orc had been staring at him while he slept? It was an unnerving stare, creepily unblinking, and the orcling's face held no emotion, his countenance troublingly blank. Cadoc wondered what the little fellow was thinking.

"That's quite the card face you have," the ranger rumbled quietly, not wanting to wake Rukhash.

The little orc remained motionless.

Glancing about, Cadoc realized there was no one in his line of sight except Rukhash, and he truly did not want to wake her. Cadoc decided to remove the little orc himself. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his hands, keeping his palms open, and maneuvered to grab the orcling under the arms.

Before he could wrap his fingers around the little orc's ribcage, the tiny orc pulled his lip back and bared his single, sharp tooth with a high pitched growl. Cadoc moved his hands away and the little orc ceased his growling, his tiny face returning to that troublingly neutral expression.

Cadoc laced his fingers over his navel and stared back at the little orc. "I'd really rather you didn't sit on me," Cadoc told him in a soft voice.

The little orc responded with a blink.

Feeling an idea form, Cadoc slowly rolled to his side, keeping his hands where they were, and the little orc was forced to place a hand, then another hand, then his feet on the stone floor as his perch pitched sideways. All the while, his intense gaze did not leave Cadoc's face, and the ranger was reminded of an owl as it moved it's body but not its head.

"You are a strange little imp," Cadoc told him as he rolled back onto his back.

With the little orc seemingly content to stare at him from the ground, Cadoc closed his eye with a silent breath of relief. Several moments passed while Cadoc listened to the crackle of a distant fire and the quiet murmuring of voices on the far side of the caverns. Then, he felt a hand, then another hand, then two feet settled on his breastbone and a little rear sat upon his chest. Cadoc opened his eye.

Two red orbs stared at him unblinking and Cadoc sighed. "You are certainly tenacious," he admitted. He glanced uncomfortably at the tiny penis pointed in his direction. Cadoc glared at the boy's face. "You had better not pee on me," he warned.

There was a chuckling on his blind side, and Cadoc turned to face Grazad as she crouched near the entrance of her cave. She loped stiffly to her own bed, separated from him and Rukhash by the dying fire, and sat down. Her attention on the little orc, she waved the boy towards her. "Com'ere, Gruk," she ordered.

The little orc went to her, crawling over Rukhash as if she were not there. The sleeping orcess grunted and curled into a tighter ball. Gruk sat in front of Grazad with his blank, unnerving look focused on her.

"You hungry?" the old orcess asked and he nodded silently. Gruk looked hopefully at the pendulous breasts covered by her baggy tunic. "I ain't got nothin' in there fer ya," she told him and pushed him towards the main cave. "Go find yer mum."

With one, last, curious look in Cadoc's direction, the little orc walked off, supporting himself on his knuckles in the same manner of the other orcs. It was a common way of walking among most goblin breeds, but Cadoc was startled by how controlled the boy's movements were. Graceful. As if he were an adult and not a tiny, awkward infant still nursing.

The old orcess had a keen eye on him. "Didn't expect you up so soon," she said evenly. "You was dead passed out."

"It was a highly eventful evening," Cadoc admitted.

She snorted, curling her lip slightly. "Nice ta see you can talk. I was thinkin' Rukhash gone an' hitched herself to a dumb bastard."

Cadoc felt his face heat slightly. After they were freed, he felt it was wiser to hold his tongue, unsure of what to say. One wrong word, and he might be right back on the floor of the main den with sharp toothed faces all around him.

"Cadoc's yer name, then?" Grazad asked, though she knew the answer already. Rukhash had told her his name last night.

"It is," he said. "And you are Grazad. Rukhash has mentioned you."

"Has she?" the old orcess eyed her sleeping former pupil appraisingly. "Well," Grazad drawled. "I'm sure it were all real complimentary stuff she said."

"Quite complimentary," Cadoc replied carefully. Cadoc was thankful for Grazad's intercession, but he could not forget the scars on his  _shaûk's_  back. This old orcess was not some kindly grandmother. At one point, she had been a Mordor pitmaster, and Cadoc felt keenly aware of that when he looked at her. There was nothing kind in Grazad's face, only cold calculation.

"You know why yer still alive?" she queried with a toothy smirk.

"I am sure you will tell me."

"Yer alive cause I vouched fer ya, and it weren't  _you_  I were vouchin' for," she pointed at Rukhash's sleeping form between them. "It were her. She's a clever girl, that one, though lookin' at you makes me doubt that a bit…"

The orcess frowned at him, narrowing her blood red eyes. "What happened to that eye?"

"An unfortunate altercation," Cadoc told her.

"That right?"

He offered no more information. Grazad regarded him skeptically. "You ain't no spy," she said slowly. "Unless yer the worst bloody spy there was. Where'd that sword of yers come from?"

"Rukhash answered that already," Cadoc said.

"No she didn't," the orcess argued, scowling. "But it ain't my worry so long as yer puttin' the War past ya, an' considerin' who you're paired with, I'm guessin' you managed that." Cadoc nodded dumbly. "I'm gettin' old, boy, an' the only apprentice I got is the  _Shatroklob_ 's idiot daughter. You know what a  _Shatroklob_  is?"

"The head female of a clan," Cadoc answered, dialing up that information easily. "The den mother."

"Least she taught you  _somethin_ '," the orcess grumbled. "Her mum wants her ta have my status," she continued, "an' let me tell you, I got a lotta status. There's arseholes come from a tribe over ta see me. I'm the best bloody healer in the whole damn mountain range."

"Then, I don't see why you have difficulty finding an apprentice," Cadoc said, slowly realizing what she was getting at.

"I ain't teachin' no foreign girl what I know," the orcess hissed. "I don't treat no patients outside my tribe fer  _free_. And I ain't givin' away no information fer free neither. But her," Grazad jabbed her finger in Rukhash's direction, " I had ta train, 'cause we was both in the pits together, and I needed a girl I could count on."

"Her I need," Grazad continued. "You, I don't, but If she's gone an' attached 'erself ta you, then I gotta deal with it. I'm tellin' you now, I already had ta cool some hot heads over you bein' here, but the chief's got my back. I bring in a ton a trade fer us, an' he knows it. You're safe so long as you keep yer head down an' don't piss no one off. If you give two shits about her and that sprog of yers, 'en you'll mind yerself. You understand?"

"I understand," Cadoc said tightly, not liking the turn this conversation had taken. Did this orcess expect Rukhash to just  _stay_? Granted, it seemed as though she would be afforded a high social status if she did, but Cadoc did not like the thought that they were trapped here.

"Don't look so dour," Grazad snorted, noting his grim face. "Folks'll get used ta you eventually. Shit, you might actually be useful 'round here."

"What about you, girl?" the old orcess said to Rukhash's back. "You understand why you two're still breathin'?"

Glancing down, Cadoc realized that Rukhash's eyes were wide open. She stared at him with a deadly serious expression. "I get it," she said, not bothering to turn her head towards the old orcess addressing her.

"That's fine, then," Grazad said dismissively and plucked a tied bunch of dried herbs from a pile near her bed. She began stripping the stalks into a large, stone mortar.

Cadoc held Rukhash's grim gaze as the old orcess began humming tunelessly. What did she think of this, he wondered. She did not  _look_  very pleased and Cadoc could not say he felt particularly at ease with the information Grazad imparted.

"So," the old orcess said conversationally, as if she had just not recently threatened the pair of them, "what you been up to since I seen ya?"

Sitting up slowly, Rukhash cast a pointed look in Cadoc's direction before turning to face her former mistress. "Grazad," she rumbled, and her tone caused the old healer to look up from her work. "I'm real appreciative over what you done," Rukhash told her. "You speakin' fer us were a big deal, and I'd thank you fer it."

"I hear a 'but' in there," Grazad said, narrowing her eyes.

"I ain't in Mordor so's I can go back ta runnin' yer errands," she said. "Me'n Cadoc are here ta find a place fer us an' our sprog, an' if this turns out not ta be 'at place, then we ain't stayin'."

"You owe me…"

"Yea," Rukhash agreed, her tone calm, even as Grazad's expression grew dark, "I owe ya. Fer more than just what you did today. I owe ya fer what you taught me. I'm grateful fer that too, but I ain't no one's _snaga_  no more. What're you gonna do? Set a guard on us every minute? We managed ta slip by soldiers. We crossed all'a Gondor to make it here. You think some lad with a spear is gonna stop us if we want ta go?"

Grazad looked ready to explode, but Rukhash pressed on. "I get what you want ta do. I get 'at you want what you know ta get passed ta someone who's gonna remember it 'fore you pop off. I come ta Mordor hopin' ta find my dad, but I don't bleedin' know if he's still alive. He's probably at the bottom of the Isen with the bulk of my kin, nothin' but bones. Stayin' here might be our best option; better'n wanderin' forever tryin' ta find someone 'at's long dead. But I ain't makin' you no promises. Not 'til I been here awhile at least, 'n we see how things go. You want me ta pick up after ya, then it can't be like it were in Lúgburz. You either trust me or ya don't."

The old orcess looked pissed, but Rukhash did not care. She wasn't going to spend her life groveling and begging, hoping Grazad did not suddenly decide to rescind her vouch in their favor. If Grazad was offering to complete her training so she could take the old healer's place, then she would have to treat Rukhash as any healer would treat an apprentice, not like some lowly worm waiting on an order.

Grazad ground her teeth, obviously furious, but that fury seemed to die a little as she locked eyes with Rukhash in a silent battle of wills. The old orcess looked away first, down to her hand, which she flexed with a grimace. She chuckled humorlessly. "It's nice ta see you got more'n a smart mouth now," she looked up at Rukhash, a small smirk on her face. "When'd you grow a backbone?"

"Dunno," Rukhash replied with her own, humorless smile. "Probably 'round the time my kids was slaughtered. Or maybe after, when I was stuck on my own fer five years." Grazad frowned at that, a thoughtful look crossing her face. Turning, Rukhash glanced behind her to find Cadoc staring at the two of them silently. She reached back to pat his knee and glared at the old woman. "Oi," Rukhash added, "an' you be nice ta my Cadoc! He's the best bloke you'll ever meet."

" _Sha_ ," Grazad hissed. "Every bleedin'  _shaûk_  thinks  _their_  bleedin'  _shaûk_  is the best bloke or girl you'll ever meet! We'll see about him. Just make sure he don't do nothin' stupid."

"He'll be fine," Rukhash assured her. Grazad rose to her feet and rounded the fire, first on her knuckles and then, after a subtle flinch of pain, on her hind legs, waddling towards them. Rukhash noticed Cadoc tense from the corner of her eye, and she squeezed his leg lightly before folding her hands in her lap.

Placing her gnarled hand on Rukhash's belly, the old orcess took up a thoughtful look. "How's this one doin'?" she asked. "Yer heat come early, then? The dams here just started in on their sprogs."

"It were a little surprise," Rukhash admitted.

"Garn, you tricky northern girls."

Rukhash snatched Grazad's hand in her own and examined the old orcess's large, swollen knuckles. "Yer hands're worse'n I remember."

"They're worse every year," she said dismissively, pulling her hand away and eyeing Rukhash appraisingly. "Let me give you a sniff." Rukhash nodded and Grazad proceeded to stick her nose in her personal space, snuffing at the air above her crossed legs and then around her face. Rukhash noticed Cadoc's perplexed expression in her peripheral.

There was no way to guide him through this aspect of orcish culture. The balance of threats and promises, the exchange of insults and praise. It was something he would have to feel out for himself. Guessing who was your enemy and who was your ally was tricky business under the best circumstances, and it was twice as hard when you were coming into an established group. Grazad wasn't an enemy to them, Rukhash was positive of that. She was a mean old woman, that was for sure, but she was also at the end of a long life, with a long list of regrets to go with that life. Rukhash would not begrudge her an attempt to swing her weight around.

"Yer havin' a girl," the old orcess said definitively.

Frowning, Rukhash glanced at Cadoc, remembering the recounting of his strange vision. "That right?" she smiled slightly, pushing away that thought. "Well, I always did like girls," she said with a rakish smirk.

" _Har_ ," the old orcess snorted. "I remember. Who were that big cunt you was always sneakin' off with?"

"Drautran," Rukhash supplied.

"Yea, yea, I remember her," Grazad nodded. "Good lookin' girl. Couldn't teach her shit, but she were bound fer the pits anyhow, once her heat started. Guess she's lucky the Fall come first."

"Hn," Rukhash grunted, feeling suddenly sad. It had been a while since she thought about those days. Buggering off with Drautran while Grazad wasn't looking, figuring out where she fit in the world after her kin were gone. That was a long time ago.

The old orcess must have noticed her long face. "We're eatin' soon," she said, changing the subject. "Fortunately fer you two, the lads caught more'n you last night. Hunters took out half a bleedin' herd'a mountain goat. 'At's were I were at. One'a the boys had himself a close encounter with a pair a horns."

"He alright?" Rukhash asked.

" _Skai_ , he's fine," Grazad rumbled. "Just a few stitches were all he needed, lucky bastard." Her eyes darted to Cadoc. "Yer man's clammed up again."

Turning, Rukhash realized Cadoc had retreated a little further into the corner, folding his hands in his lap as he listened silently to their conversation. She couldn't quite make out his expression, but he did not seem particularly happy.

"We all eat together when there's a big haul," Grazad said with a pointed look. "Might as well get 'im ready fer that if he ain't used to it. I got'ta see to a few folks 'fore supper."

After picking up her mortar full of green powder, Grazad waddled out, leaving them as alone as they could expect to be in an orc den. Rukhash scooted next to Cadoc and laid her hand on his tense shoulder. "You alright?"

"I am not entirely sure what just happened," he said tightly. "Are we staying here?"

"Could it hurt ta give it a try?" she asked. "I'm just gonna keep gettin' bigger, an' I won't be able ta travel soon. We could see how it goes, yea? At least 'til the mite is born."

Cadoc took a shuddering breath. "I feel very anxious," he admitted.

"I know," Rukhash said, rubbing his arm. "But it's arright fer now, yea? Most folks'll probably just ignore you 'nless you give 'em a reason not to."

With a distant look, Cadoc laid a hand on her knee. "We have talked about your customs over and over," he said, his eyes staring into the middle distance. "And now I cannot recall even  _one_  of those conversations."

Rukhash gripped his shoulders, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "Cadoc," she said firmly, "don't  _panic_. It'll be fine. Just lay low at first. Don't make no waves 'til you're sure who to make waves with, yea? No one's gonna up an' eat you fer no reason." She grinned at him. "Stay by me,  _shaûkizub_. I'll protect you."

Cadoc choked out a nervous laugh. "I had hoped I would handle this more gracefully,' he said. He frowned slightly. "What did Grazad mean, about 'getting me ready'? What do I need to be ready for?"

"Ah…" Rukhash stammered. "About that…"

* * *

They had discussed orcish customs many times, and Cadoc though he had prepared himself for everything, but this was so much worse than anything he could imagine. The cacophonous sound of dozens of growling voices leering and howling and hooting; the pack of orcs tearing apart the goat carcasses on the far side of the main den; the  _smell_. The smell was the worst. Entrails and body odor and a faint whiff of excrement coming from  _somewhere_  had the bile rising in his throat. And the only safe place he could look was down at the filthy floor, black with greasy grime and littered with broken bits of bone and dried skin and things he could not identify. How could  _anyone_  live like this?

The topless females he could handle. That he had been ready for. Even the naked orcs were not so disturbing. Most of them were children anyhow. But the first time he caught sight of two males fondling one another, still covered in blood from their feasting, had been more than he had expected and his gaze went immediately to the space just in front of his knee and stayed there while Rukhash secured their portion.

He had argued that point only briefly when she had insisted on it. "You push the wrong bloke an' yer head'll come clear off," she had said. "I done this before, so let me at it." Now he was glad she had left him in a quiet corner. She was right, the orcs were ignoring him for the most part. He imagined he was getting a few strange looks, but so far no one had tried to engage him in any way. He looked up a few times to catch sight of Rukhash chasing off a smaller female or hissing at a looming male, but no one attacked her. Cadoc wondered at that: how she knew who she could intimidate and who she couldn't. He would have to ask her about it later.

He was relieved when he looked up and saw her walking towards him, a roasted hunk of meat on a spit and a raw organ in her other hand. She was easy to spot, a head taller than the tallest orc in the cavern, even if she was much narrower in the shoulders than most of them. Her height was emphasized by the fact that the other orcs here were on all fours. He had seen orcs walk like this before, but not with such frequency. Then again, he had never observed them in an intimate setting, and besides, none of these orcs were holding a weapon.

Rukhash settled next to him and handed off the spitted meat before tearing into the liver she had grabbed for herself. "I'm glad we got here early," she said, licking her lips. "Got me the best part."

Cadoc chewed his near-raw meat quietly.

She sighed and scooted a little closer to him. "You doin' arright?"

There was a shriek and a small pack of half-sized orcs went screaming past them. "Is this…" Cadoc had no idea how to phrase this question. "Is this… usual?"

"It's 'bout as 'usual' as it gets," she said calmly. WIth a shuddering breath, he went back to eating.

Rukhash glanced around the main den. A few lads had picked up a drum and were going at that; most folks were still eating and chattering away; she caught the subtle sound of a pair fucking, but she couldn't see anything. No one was brawling yet, but the group as a whole seemed in pretty high spirits. Rukhash tried to see these orcs as Cadoc saw them. It was loud, and it was cramped and the scent of a lot of folks living together was stronger than what she was used to on her own. He was probably a little overwhelmed by it all.

"Yer doin' fine," she grinned at him, patting his knee.

Cadoc fixed her with a small, unsure smile. Grazad had returned their packs to them minus their weapons, so he had managed to find a shirt to throw on, but Rukhash still wore his cotton tunic from earlier. She had already gotten some blood on the front and it was dirty where she had sat on this filthy floor. Cadoc understood why her attire mostly consisted of dark leathers. But, she seemed… happy, or at least, at ease. How could she be so relaxed when they were sitting in the middle of such chaos?

Grazad emerged from nowhere. It seemed as though one moment he and Rukhash were sitting alone in the corner, and the next moment the ancient woman was collapsing next to him with a grunt. Cadoc glanced over at the old orcess, unsure of how he felt about her. He wondered if she would make good on her earlier threats, and keep them here, or if Rukhash had truly managed to talk some sense into her. Cadoc was grateful for her intercession, but he was not sure he liked her very much.

She blinked at him and a toothy smirk grew on her face. "You keep smellin' like a skerd rabbit, an' someone's gonna think you  _are_  one."

"Don't bugger 'im, Grazad," Rukhash growled.

"What now?" Grazad smacked Cadoc on the arm harder than he would have expected something so old could smack. "You gonna cower behind  _her_  the rest of yer life, are ya Man?"

"Right now, I would like to eat in peace," Cadoc said tightly.

"That's better," she sneered. Her countenance brightened as she gazed over Rukhash's shoulder. "Ah," she breathed. "It's 'bout bleedin' time."

Following her line of sight, Cadoc realized a broad, old male was approaching them. He was the same orc that had taken hold of Rukhash when they were captured. His right eye was completely gone, hidden under a patch of scarred, grey skin that was a slightly lighter color than the rest of his charcoal complexion, and his hair was white, thin and wiry. His clothes looked like they were permanently attached, the leather jerkin and wide belt and scraps of cloth bleeding into one, solid color.

He was carrying a goat leg, severed at the joint. As he approached their little group his broad mouth split into a toothy smile that seemed more lascivious than friendly. "Oi, ya old cunt," he said as he tossed the animal leg at Grazad. "Here's yer cut." Squatting next to Rukhash, he looked her up and down and Cadoc felt his hackles rise at the old male's obvious ogling. "Hey there, little mother," he greeted, "the hag says yer here ta pick up fer her."

Rukhash was obviously less uneasy with his attentions towards her than Cadoc was. "We'll see," she replied with a careless shrug. "Figured I'd hang around fer a while at least."

"That's fine, that is," the male grinned. "Ashplak's my name, and I wouldn't mind someone around what's finer looking ta have a look at my warts."

Cadoc nearly choked. Was that… Was he  _hitting_  on her? "Oh yea?" Rukhash drawled. "Got a problem with 'em, do ya?"

" _Hurr_ ," Ashplak purred, grinning. "They're  _everywhere_."

"Hot knife's best fer that, ain't it Grazad?" Rukhash said, raising a brow at the old orcess. "Slices em right off…"

"Do it yer own way," Grazad replied casually as she chewed. "I usually beat 'em with a stick."

"Har, har," Ashplak grumbled. "She's worse'n you, old Bat." He turned his attention back on Rukhash, and, stroking his hand along her back, said, "I could get ta like you."

Cadoc was very ready to start throwing punches when Rukhash subtly elbowed Ashplak's hand away, giving him a stern, glaring look. He frowned at her. "No hard feelin's," she said.

The orc chuckled at that. "Com'on then, little mother," he smirked. "You can't blame an' old lad fer tryin'. Asides," he added, gesturing towards Cadoc, "I figured you had a thing for one-eyed blokes."

"Just  _that_  one," she clarified, and, lifting her chin a little added, "we're exclusive."

" _Exclusive_ , you say?" Pursing his lips, Ashplak's bright, blue eye focused on Cadoc. "Keep 'er on a tight leash do ya? Can't blame you fer that."

"Oi," Rukhash grumbled. "Maybe I keep  _him_  on a tight leash."

The old orc fell into a round of hooting guffaws, slapping his knee. "Yea, yea," he chuckled. "The girls'll be linin' up fer that one." Cadoc frowned slightly, not sure he liked the direction this conversation was going in. Ashplak addressed him again. "So, Man, what's up with you? Play a little bones, do ya? Me and the lads're lookin' fer a fourth."

Cadoc glanced anxiously at Rukhash.

"What's the matter with you," the orc growled. "Don't you talk?"

"I have heard of the game," Cadoc admitted. "But I have never played it."

Ashplak's face lit up like a candle. "Well then," he said gregariously, "I'll just have ta teach you." Cadoc was very sure Ashplak would be happy to teach him clear out of all his belongings.

"I have nothing to gamble with," he said.

"Com'on then, boy," the orc grinned. "We're just playin' fer fun." He reached forward to thump Cadoc on the shoulder. "Nothin' ta lose, yea?" The orc rose and turned, motioning for the ranger to follow.

Cadoc gave Rukhash another, uneasy look.

"Go on," she said. Rising to her knees, she shuffled over to embrace him, breathing in his ear. "Give 'em a chance yea? If you could bear not ta be so judgemental, you might find 'at you like the folks here."

Cadoc thought that was a little underhanded, quoting the words that he had used when he introduced her to his family. She barely knew these orcs. How could she be so sure they didn't have a darker purpose in mind? Still, Cadoc could not ignore the fact that he  _had_  been condemning these people from the moment he woke up. And it would probably look bad on his part, if he spent all his time cowering in a corner. Cadoc had not shied from a challenge in all his life, and he wasn't going to start now.

"I suppose that's just fair," he said, kissing her cheek. He rose and followed after the old orc.

"Oi,  _Man_ ," Grazad called after him, and Cadoc turned. She gave him a shrewd look. "Watch their hands," she offered before tearing back into her supper.

* * *

Ashplak led him to a part of the main den that was stepped, with a pair of males situated on the lowest level, sitting around a mat with three, multi faceted dice. They were both far younger than the old orc that invited him in on their game. One was as broad and heavily built as Ashplak, with black skin and black hair and dull yellow eyes. The other was dark grey in color, leaner with a small dollop of curly black hair sprouting from the middle of his skull and a dappling of lighter grey spots – very much like Rukhash's – along the bridge of his nose. Both of them were wearing only loincloths, and Cadoc noticed that they sported a number of silver scars, some looking more purposefully designed than others. Cadoc was relieved that he was able to keep Rukhash in sight from here. He caught her eye. She smiled sweetly and gave him an encouraging, little wave.

"This here's Hurug," Ashplak announced, pointing to the broader orc, "and this little fucker's Takhbork." He gave Cadoc a few, terse pats on the back. "This is our new Man. Say hello, lads."

"The fuck," Takhbork growled, with an annoyed, dismissive gesture towards Cadoc. "I thought we was playin' a game, not man-sitting."

"Hey now," the old orc said, throwing a careless arm around Cadoc's waist, "nothin' wrong with being friendly, yea? Our man here wanted ta learn ta play bones. Thought I'd teach 'im a thing'r three."

Hurug grinned like a maniac. "Green is 'e? Well, why didn't you say so?" Hurug scooted to the side and patted the floor next to him. "You sit right here, Man. We got a good view a yer girl from here."

With a rallying breath, Cadoc took up Hurug on his invitation, though he sat a little further away from the grinning orc than suggested. Takhbork scowled, not looking pleased that he had joined them.

Ashplak planted himself across from them and pointed to the mat. "You seen a board before?"

Glancing at the mat, Cadoc realized that it was painted with four, white squares, about an inch around, planted a few inches away from each corner. The mat itself was about two feet by two feet, made of a red, woven material. He frowned. "I cannot say I have," he admitted.

"Well," the old orc said, "Here's how it goes." He held up the three, ivory dice, and Cadoc wondered if they were really made of bone. "Each side's got a couple a marks," he turned the dice around and Cadoc noted the different number of slashes on each of the five faces. "You roll 'em, an' add up the numbers. Highest number wins. If yer dice lands on a square, it's double points, an' if they fall off the board, they don't count. Easy as pie."

That  _did_  sound easy, and fairly forthright. Cadoc nodded. "I understand," he said.

"If we're done holdin' hands, I'd like ta bloody play," Takhbork grumbled, setting a little scrap of half-used paper and a lead nub next to his leg. "Five rounds of seven throws, yea? The usual. I'll keep the marks."

They rolled to see who played first, and Cadoc managed to get the highest score. "Seven throws," Takhbork reminded him.

So, Cadoc threw seven times, keeping a mental tally of his numbers. His first roll went poorly: only three; his second went much better: ten with an extra four points for a square, and on until he had accumulated a total of seventy seven.

"Sixty eight," Takhbork announced as he scribbled on the paper.

Cadoc blinked. "I think you are mistaken," he said. "I rolled seventy seven."

Takhbork bared his narrow, sharp teeth at Cadoc. "You callin' me a  _liar_?" he hissed.

"No…" Cadoc replied carefully. "I am merely suggesting that your math is off."

"So yer callin' me  _stupid_ ," the goblin growled.

"I counted sixty an' eight myself," Ashplak said, scratching his head. "Oi, Man, it's yer first time at this. Thinkin' you might be countin' funny. Take the sixty eight and let Hurug have his go."

He was  _very sure_  that his score was seventy seven, but they were not playing for stakes. If these orcs wanted to cheat him, that was their business. For the sake of a peaceful life, Cadoc decided not to press it. "I suppose you may be right," Cadoc acquiesced and handed the dice to Hurug.

Each orc had his turn, and even with Takhbork's fudged numbers, Cadoc still had the higher score. "Not bad for your first go, Man," Ashplak said. "Even with a  _tark_ handicap, you beat all of us."

"A what?"

"What's the  _tark_  handicap, Takhbork?" Ashplak said with a clever grin. "Nine points?"

"There abouts," the smaller goblin smirked.

"You did not mention I would be playing with a  _handicap_ ," Cadoc growled.

"Well, here you done good anyways!" Hurug said, slapping his back.

"Why don't we make it more interestin'?" Ashplak suggested, throwing a short knife next to the board. The other orcs threw their own stakes next to his, all the while, Ashplak watched Cadoc with a shrewd, blue eye.

"I thought you said we were playing for 'fun'?" Cadoc frowned.

"Bets  _are_ fun," Hurug said with a dark smile. "What's wrong Man, ain't you got the guts fer it? We could take off that handicap, if yer worried about that."

His head swam a moment. Cadoc had never witnessed such an obvious swindle. "I have nothing to gamble with–"

"How 'bout a go with that girl of yers?" Ashplak interrupted. "I bet she gives a good time."

Cadoc shot the old orc a withering glare. "Rukhash is not a  _possession_ ," he hissed.

Hurug whistled appreciatively. "She's a good lookin' girl, though," he said, glancing to where she sat with Grazad. "You got a fine taste in women, I'll say that. Wouldn't need no bet to convince her to have a go with me, I'd wager. Not after bein' stuck with an uppity prick like you."

He had never been so furious, and if Cadoc was not so level headed, he might have come to blows with Hurug over such a statement, but Cadoc saw what Hurug was doing.  _He is just trying to get a rise out of me,_  Cadoc realized.

"Why don't you ask her, then?" the ranger said, trying to sound casual.

To Cadoc's surprise, the broad, dark orc rose from his seat with a lecherous grin and strode confidently towards the little corner where Rukhash sat. Three females had come to join her and Grazad, one holding an infant, and a part of Cadoc was glad that she was making friends. He could not hear what the Hurug said to her, but Rukhash's face screwed up angrily.

Her loud retort drifted towards them. "Why don't ya go fuck yer mother!" Cadoc bit his cheek to keep from smiling.

"That  _is_  a fine girl," Ashplak said off-handedly. He had turned to view the altercation himself. Much to Cadoc's disgust, Hurug then dropped his loincloth directly in Rukhash's view, and threw his arms up as if to suggest the argument was over. Cadoc was horrified to see Rukhash eye him appraisingly. With a lightning speed, her arm shot forward, and she punched the dark orc square in his privates. The unfortunate male dropped like a stone and the females with Rukhash broke out into a fit of high-pitched, howling laughter.

Though he did not feel particularly friendly towards Hurug, or any of the orcs he'd met thus far, Cadoc found himself grunting in sympathy as the orc rolled on the ground moaning pitifully.

Ashplak turned towards Cadoc, his blue eye shining with malicious amusement. "Guess that'd be a 'no'," the orc said with a cruel smile. "It's just the three of us, now, I'd wager."

"I know a grift when I see one," Cadoc told him. "If you want to play for stakes, then I will not play with you."

The one-eyed orc shrugged carelessly. "Fair enough," he said, taking his knife from the pile. "But you can't blame an old lad for tryin'."

"Another set?" Takhbork offered, turning over the scrap of paper.

"Do I still have a handicap?" Cadoc asked suspiciously.

The goblin eyed him curiously. "No handicap," he said and turned towards Ashplak, who shrugged.

The next set, Cadoc threw second, and he was thankful for Grazad's suggestion that he watch the hands of his game-mates. Both Ashplak and Takhbork had spare dice stashed away, and the ranger's sharp eyes caught their subtle sleight of hand as they switched dice and had their throw, only to replace the original dice again. This time, they both trounced him thoroughly.

"No luck this round, Man," Takhbork grinned, tallying their numbers.

"My luck might be as good as yours if I had my own dice to throw."

The goblin narrowed his eyes. "You callin' me a cheater?"

Cadoc glared at him. "You have a spare die tucked in your loincloth," he turned sharply to Ashplak, "and  _yours_  is wedged in your armguards. If you are going to con me, at least hide your deception better."

A wide, pleased grin lit Ashplak's face, and Cadoc wondered at his mirth. "Saw that did you? That's a sharp eye you have, Man. An' how do we know you ain't got yer own spare."

Cadoc leveled him with an even look. "Because if I did, I would not have lost so completely."

Takhbork frowned thoughtfully. "How'd you see it?" he asked.

The ranger raised a brow at him. Pointing out the shortcomings in their trickery would just make them better at it. Still, Cadoc had always enjoyed the subtlety of hand tricks. It could not hurt to pass off a few pointers. "You turn your wrist awkwardly when you reach for it," Cadoc told him. "It is an odd gesture, and very noticeable if one is looking for it."

The goblin pursed his lips and tossed a die at Cadoc, which the ranger caught easily. "Show us how you'd do it, then."

Settling the die in the middle of his palm, Cadoc quickly pressed his hands together. When he opened them again, it was gone.

Ashplak seemed bored, reclining lazily, but Takhbork was crouched in front of Cadoc, watching him shrewdly. "I didn't see it, but I know that went up yer sleeve," the goblin accused.

Casually, Cadoc pushed up each sleeve to bare his arms and pressed his hands together again, revealing the die. Ashplak sat up at that, suddenly interested.

Takhbork snapped sharply. "That's smart!" he said. "I didn't see a bloody thing. Where'd you have it?"

"Up my sleeve," he informed them. "When I pushed them up, I retrieved it again."

Nodding, the goblin returned to his seat. He pulled another die from a pouch he had stashed near him and handed it to Cadoc. "We'll do another set," he said. "You can borrow that one 'til you make one of yer own."

This die was no different than the main set, but as Cadoc tested it in his hand, he realized it was weighted on the side of the smaller numbers. "I don't understand," he said, looking at each of the orcs sitting with him. "If you know that everyone else is cheating, why bother cheating at all?"

"I fergot ta mention," Ashplak said with a smug grin. "Part'a the game is how good you are at cheating."

"What's yer name, Man," Takhbork asked, scribbling on the paper.

"Cadoc."

"Cadoc?" the goblin said with a quirked brow. "No  _il_ s or  _el_ s or  _on_ s in there? I like that." He jotted down Cadoc's name and set the paper beside him. Cadoc wondered how this goblin new so much about the naming habits of Gondor men.

"Well, arright there, Cadoc," Ashplak said, rolling the dice in his clawed palm. "Let's have us another set."

* * *

A few hours later, Rukhash found Cadoc with four other males, sitting around a dice board. He was finishing a throw, and the crowd of them hissed as he rolled a high number. She wondered where his shirt had got off to. "Oi, Cadoc," she said, calling his attention. Glancing up at her, he nodded. "I'm headin' back ta Grazad's spot," she told him.

"I will come with you," he said, and passed something off to a wiry goblin at his left. He collected a little pile that had accumulated at his side and stepped up out of the gully where the males were playing.

"Hey, Cadoc," the goblin called after him. "I'm gettin' back my knives next time."

Cadoc tilted his head in the goblin's direction. "We will see," he said with a grin and followed after Rukhash.

As they walked back towards Grazad's cave, Rukhash gave him a once over, glad that he seemed less on edge. "Do I want ta know where yer shirt went?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I lost it in a bet," he said sheepishly. "But I did manage to keep my boots, and…" he pulled two throwing knives and three steel arrowheads from his pocket, "I managed to win a little besides."

She smiled at him. "I'm glad you 'ad some fun."

With a sigh, he admitted, "I am not sure I would call that fun, but it  _was_  quite interesting."

She laughed and laced her arm in his. She had enjoyed the company of the girls she met, and she hoped Cadoc would warm to the folks here too. It would be a few months at least before they could move on, and Rukhash wanted him to get along with other orcs besides her. The more she thought about it, the more staying on seemed like a good idea.

"Well, I'm glad it were interestin'." she said.


	52. Gossip

**Splint  
** **Chapter 52: Gossip**

* * *

Rukhash was humming. She was no longer at his side in bed, but judging by the volume, she was fairly close; probably no further than the opening to Grazad's cave. Leaving his eye closed, Cadoc enjoyed the way her voice rumbled low in her throat, like a purr rising and falling in a subtle, melodic range. There was a peaceful contentment in that hum that he could not ignore, a happiness that had been lacking since they encountered her brother.

He had only spent one day among these orcs, but Cadoc already did not like it here. He hated to pass such a judgement, but the way they lived was so foreign, so primitive compared to what he knew. Even if he came to stride with all of the cultural differences, the extreme lack of privacy and unabashed baseness of their habits would still slowly eat at him. On a level of pure intellectualism, Grazad's clan was fascinating to visit, but Cadoc was not sure he wanted to live among them permanently.

But he would say nothing to Rukhash yet. There was a part of him that remained hopeful that he would adjust; adapt to this new environment as she had adapted to a lifestyle among men. He just needed to give it a chance. It would be unwise to push her to travel now, anyway. Her obvious joy aside, he would not endanger her or their unborn child to suit his selfishness. They could discuss the far future at a later date: after she had given birth and their daughter was old enough for travel; and after  _he_  had some time to acclimate himself to the people and customs here. Perhaps his opinion would change as they became more familiar to him.

Deciding to face the day, Cadoc rolled out of bed and rummaged through his pack, producing one of his last cotton shirts. Eyeing it thoughtfully, Cadoc packed it back in his bag again, deciding to keep it clean until he made a trek outdoors. It was hot in the den. Even though Grazad did not keep her fire lit, there were a number of other fires burning in the caverns, giving the air a warm, acrid flavor. Considering the fashion habits of the orcs here, he doubted anyone would trouble him for wearing only boots and trousers. Grazad had not returned his sword – apparently the chief wanted to hold onto that – but she did supply his hunting knife, along with his short bow, Rukhash's bow and arrows, and her curved knife. Cadoc tucked his remaining blade in his boot and went to join his  _shaûk._

As he had guessed, Rukhash was just outside Grazad's cave. She had changed into her baggier tunic, and sat with a scrap of leather in her lap, the bright flash of her long sewing needle dipping in and out. Cadoc crossed his legs and sat next to her, planting a brief kiss on her cheek. "Good morning," he said.

She smiled as she worked. "Mornin', or really, afternoon. Folks keep a night schedule 'ere."

"I'll admit," Cadoc said, "it is hard to tell."

"Popped outside with Grazad when I woke up," she explained. "The hole she led me down brought us out in the middle of the oldest bleedin' forest I ever seen, and I seen Fangorn. Trees seemed quiet, though, so it weren't near as creepy."

"I traveled through Fangon," Cadoc said absently. "When I went north, I stopped briefly in Isengard, but I understand your unease. That forest is dark and full of old voices."

Rukhash stopped her sewing to stare at him. "You went ta Isengard?"

"Yes," he admitted, noting her awestruck tone. "It has been rebuilt and a garrison of Gondor soldiers is stationed there. I understand many relics and books of ancient lore and wisdom were recovered from Saruman's chambers."

A sad look crossed her features. "What about the tunnels underneath? Did yer folk fix that too?"

Cadoc silently cursed absent minded words. "I am honestly unsure," he said quietly. "I stayed only a night with the men there before pushing further north to Imladris. They mentioned nothing of the tunnels underneath."

She turned away from him, her eyes distant. "I'd bet it'd break dad's heart, ta see what happened ta all 'is hard work." She frowned thoughtfully and picked up her sewing again. "I'm almost done with this," she told him, quickly changing the subject.

Deciding not to press a grievous topic, Cadoc's attention went to the project in her lap. "And what is that?" he asked, unable to make sense of the sparse material she had in her hands. There was not enough of it to be clothing.

Holding it up for his inspection, Cadoc realized what it was she was working at: double thick, oval patch of leather with thinner straps attached at each side. There was only a little more sewing to do on the patch to give it a clean seam. "You didn't have to do that, Rukhash," he told her.

"Shut it, you," she said, wrinkling her nose. "That rag you got on looks bleedin' silly. What would Hedon say ta me if he saw you lookin' like that?"

Mention of his old friend brought a sad smile to Cadoc's face. "Per his fashion, I am sure he would think of something appropriately biting and rude."

"See?" she said. "Can't have that." Cadoc wondered what Hedon would think if he saw him now. He quickly brushed away that thought.

Rukhash was back at her project and Cadoc glanced about the den. There was a group of females gathered at the far corner, tending and equal number of infant orcs. "They's born in the winter," Rukhash had explained when he noticed the tiny orclings the night before. Cadoc was amazed by how mobile they were. Two, older males were having a game of dice by a small fire, but Cadoc couldn't say he felt any, particular need to join them. He was still reeling from the fast paced game the night before. There were older children playing around the caves on higher levels. Cadoc could not watch them for more than a few minutes. They leapt from one treacherous ledge to another with an admirable grace, chasing each other with shrieking laughter, but he was terrified that he might see one of them fall. Rukhash had already instructed him to stay out of the business of others here, and if the group of females was unconcerned for their safety, then Cadoc would not fuss over it either. He doubted, though, that he would be nearly so nonplussed if it were his own daughter two dozen feet off the ground.

"Where is everyone?" he asked absently. The main den seemed curiously empty.

"Out doin' whatever it is 'at their doin'," she replied. "Hunters're out huntin', gatherers are out gatherin', Grazad took 'er snotty little helper out fer teachin' once we was back."

"You decided to wait for me to get up?" Cadoc asked guiltily.

" _Nar_ , not really," she said. "I trust ya ta handle yerself. You know where the fresh water an' the piss pots're now, so's you don't need me holdin' yer hand, but I need ta do some sewin'. Wanted ta make this fer you'n then I'm gonna have at my tunics. All my other's 'sides this are gonna get loads too small real quick."

The females gathered fell into a round of hooting laughter, and Cadoc noticed Rukhash glare at them. "What's that about?" he asked.

"They're talkin' about you," she rumbled under her breath. "Just loud enough so's I can hear it."

Cadoc frowned thoughtfully. "I will assume what they said is not flattering."

Rukhash patted his leg. "They're just bein' cunts," she told him. "I met some nice girls last night, but that there's Ranmor's crew."

"Who?"

"The  _Shatroklob_ ," she offered. "Met 'er earlier, when she brought her girl ta Grazad fer her lesson. I can see why Grazad don't like 'at girl. She's a bossy brat, and her mum's a bossy cunt. You see all them girls there?"

Glancing at the dozen or so females gathered, Cadoc nodded. He assumed the largest of them was Ranmor. She looked very much like a queen holding court.

"They's all're pregnant. Even the girls what whelped just this past winter. Grazad gave 'em somethin' so they could whelp again, cause Ranmor said so."

"I don't understand," Cadoc said, confused by her obvious anger. "Is that bad?"

Rukhash fixed him with a pointed look. "There ain't near enough hunters ta manage all them new kids plus the ones they already got," she explained.

Cadoc recalled that it was the den mother's job to see to population control. "Then, why would so many females be allowed to breed?"

Rukhash smirked at him. "Cause they's tight with Ranmor and breedin' girls get first go at all the food. You know where half their food comes from?"

Cadoc shook his head.

"Grazad," Rukhash spat. "She makes all these poultices and powders and medicines and sells 'em off ta the neighborin' clans. Masks the smell – the crafty old bitch – with stinkier oils an' powders what won't affect the brew, so no one could ever figure out what's in 'em. Most a them other clans is small and don't got no healer, or bigger and don't got no healer near as good as her. They pay 'er off with tributes: meat and iron and shit like that. There's a group comin' in a few days ta pick stuff up from 'er."

"She is being taken advantage of?" Cadoc asked.

Rukhash snorted. "Not likely," she said. "She knows what she's doin'." She nodded towards the group of females. "But that stupid cunt set her daughter under the old hag an' this group is gonna be  _fucked_ when she finally decides ta up an' die. They better hope a few'a these little lads and girls are big enough ta hunt by then. And they better hope there's enough shit  _to_  hunt by then too. There's a lotta mouths ta feed here, and there's just gonna be more."

"Or," Cadoc offered, feeling uncomfortable with the thought, "they should hope that  _you_  decide to stay."

She smirked. "Grazad's got the chief by the balls when it comes ta us," she assured him. "He knows how much 'e needs her, and how much he'll need me."

Cadoc noticed the larger female was subtly eyeing the both of them. Remembering the acuteness of orcish ears, he leaned in towards his  _shaûk_  and lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. "Why doesn't Grazad choose a better apprentice from the available females here?"

Rukhash lowered her voice as well. "Cause Ranmor's a selfish cunt," she said. "She won't have it. Thinks 'er stupid kid can actually learn all this stuff."

"Can't she?"

"Maybe if she stops bein' such an uppity little arse," Rukhash huffed. "But she's stubborn and not real quick. She'll need ta work loads harder at it than she is right now. You should hear the lip she gives Grazad. I woulda been whipped raw sayin' shit like that ta her. Fuck, I  _were_  whipped raw sayin' shit like that ta her, but Ranmor won't let Grazad touch the brat. The way I heard it from Grazad, it were some huge fight when Bhrafmor started up with her."

"Bhrafmor is Ranmor's daughter?" Cadoc asked, trying to keep up.

"Yea," Rukhash said, tieing off the thread she was working with. "Sorry," she said with an apologetic look. "Me an Grazad had a long talk afore. I fergot a minute 'at you wasn't all clued in."

"I will admit," Cadoc said, maintaining his low timbre, "I do not quite understand why the chief of this clan would allow this to go on. Why doesn't he tell Ranmor to allow Grazad to train someone else? Certainly, he must be concerned what will happen once she passes on."

"Oh, my Cadoc," Rukhash said, shaking her head. "I told you 'bout this already. The  _Shatroklob_ got loads more sway than just decidin' who breeds. If she wanted, Ranmor could rally these girls in a revolt. She ain't got no  _shaûk_ , but all them girls with her got males attached to 'em. And them males got pals attached to  _them_ , plus all her kids and siblings? There'd be a bloody battle over it. The whole clan would be split. Dufkarn's not doing shit unless he's ready for a fight."

"Would she really do that?" Cadoc said, shocked. "Over something so minor?"

"It ain't minor ta  _her_. It's her whole bloody position she's lookin' after." Rukhash shook her head. "I know what yer thinkin'. I know too much'a yer folk now ta assume anythin' else. You think she's pushin' her kid on Grazad 'cause she wants the brat ta do well fer herself, but that ain't it at all. Bhrafmor becomin' the healer would make Ranmor's status even higher than the chief's without her worryin' about bein' _Durlob_. It's a power play, Cadoc. I don't know what it is she thinks Grazad does, but she obviously don't understand it. What she  _does_  understand is that Grazad's got near as much sway with the chief as her and she don't like it. As fer her kid, I don't know what's goin' on in Bhrafmor's head. I got a feelin' it's full of a lotta empty. Maybe she thinks Grazad's just gonna go on for-bloody-ever, or maybe she thinks she can throw a bunch of shit in a pot and hope fer the best. I'll tell you, though: the first vial of medicine she sells off what doesn't work is gonna start a bloody war with a neighbor. "

"You know less of my people than you think," Cadoc admitted. "High born lords and ladies are not above using very similar, underhanded tactics to assure their family's position and power. What does Grazad think of all this?"

" _Har_ ," Rukhash giggled. "She thinks it's kinda hilarious. She said, 'fore I showed up, she were lookin' forward ta dyin' an' leavin' them bitches in the lurch."

Cadoc could understand the old orcess's animosity. "And now?"

Rukhash smiled softly. "She's old, Cadoc. I mean, she's really fucking old. She could go at any minute. She ain't got no kids no more. They died ages ago in Lugbúrz. She wants ta know that what she knows is gonna get used by someone. I guess, she wants ta leave somethin' of herself behind. And," Rukhash added with a smirk, "I think she wants ta stick it ta Ranmor a bit. She ain't allowed ta train no one but Bhrafmor, but here I show up trained already fer the most part. Ranmor's real pissed I'm here. I could tell when I met 'er this mornin'."

"From what you have told me, that does not sound like a good thing," Cadoc said, glancing at the formidable female across the cavern. Her attention was back with the females with her, but Cadoc did not feel comfortable raising his voice above the whisper it was at.

" _Gar_ , she won't do nothin'," Rukhash said dismissively. "I already made some friends last night, and you an' me are gonna lay real low, like. See how this all plays out. We can always ditch if it looks like things might go south."

"You seemed so happy," Cadoc said, caressing her cheek. "I did not think you were considering leaving."

"I'm keepin' my options open," she said, clasping his hand in hers. "I still gotta prove myself. Though, I wouldn't mind stickin' around a bit ta see what Grazad could teach me, but I'm thinkin' a you too. There's lads here already what are pissed yer here. No one bought that shit I said 'bout yer sword. They all figured you're a ranger. Some folks are lettin' it slide, like the lads playin' with you last night, and some are hot about it. Unfortunately, all the lads what ain't keen on you are hunters an' warriors, an' I can't say I like that…"

She frowned and squeezed his hand. "I don't want it ta be fer you here like it woulda been fer me at yer village. I want you ta have a place here, ta feel useful. I ain't gonna wanna stay if everyone treats you like shit. I wouldn't expect you ta eat that yer whole damn life, I don't care how cushy my gig here would be. So, we'll see how that goes too."

"I want you to be happy," he told her.

"I want  _you_  ta be happy too," she returned with a smirk. "I want all of us," she added, rubbing her belly, " ta be happy. So, we'll see, yea?"

Leaning forward, Cadoc kissed her brow. "Indeed," he said. "We'll see."

She smiled at him and held up the finished patch. "So," she said with a soft smile, "let's see how this fits…"

* * *

**Translations**

**Durlob**  (Shadowlandian) Female Ruler. (In Markos 'verse, this is the title of a female chief.)


	53. New Purpose

**Splint**

**Chapter 53: New Purpose**

* * *

There was nothing for him to do. While Rukhash went about augmenting her wardrobe, Cadoc was faced with the insurmountable task of occupying himself. His ribs barely bothered him now, and in all he felt rather good, prepared to do  _something_ , but there was no task that required doing.

Rukhash insisted on seeing to her own sewing, and she only had one needle anyway. The hunters obviously did not want him, because they had left hours before, and Cadoc had no idea what he would be gathering in the middle of the night, if he  _were_  to gather. He scraped together what was left of the breakfast Rukhash and Grazad shared: an unidentifiable brown sludge that he ate quickly, and did not bother thinking where it came from. He unpacked and repacked their belongings more neatly; shook out and made their sparse bed; did the same for Grazad's bed, after asking Rukhash if it would be acceptable; used a dusty broom that looked long out of use to sweep Grazad's cave clean; and brought Rukhash some tea at her request. That managed to kill about an hour.

Making his own cup of tea, Cadoc joined his  _shaûk_ where she had seated herself. Ranmor and the females with her had wandered off somewhere, and the cave seemed even emptier, with only unattended small children napping in various upper caves and a few orcs wandering through the main den. He sipped lightly at the savory broth – a tea that resembled Rukhash's favorite brew – and enjoyed the subtle notes of fennel and another taste he could not identify, but was pleasant nonetheless. It cleared the bland taste of breakfast from his mouth.

"Grazad'll be real pleased you tidied up," Rukhash said as she sliced a seam open. "Especially since you kept her pots and herbs where they was at."

The whole back of Grazad's cave was lined with dried or drying plants in baskets and clay containers of various sizes, stacked three or four high, full of contents Cadoc could not guess. Remembering Rukhash's own baffling system of organization, he had carefully pulled each set away from the wall, swept behind, and placed them back where he had found them. "I would not dare to move a single thing," Cadoc admitted. "As you have your own way to go about things, I am sure she has hers."

"They ain't so different, our ways," Rukhash said with a small smile. "She's the one who taught me."

Frowning thoughtfully, Cadoc asked, "How long were you with her, in Barad Dur?"

"Oh," Rukhash stopped and stared off, thinking. "I guess it were 'bout a month. Maybe less. There weren't no day're night there, so it's hard ta say."

"A  _month_ ," Cadoc blinked. "You learned all that you know from her in a  _month_?"

She laughed. "You talk like it's a big deal."

"It  _is_  a big deal," he emphasized. "You have skills in surgery that would take some  _years_  to learn."

"Well it ain't like I just sat back while she rattled off plants and procedure," Rukhash told him. "Her hands were bad even then, and I had ta see to all the stitchin' an' cuttin' for her, and all the gatherin' of 'er plants, an' all the mashin' and whatnot. She stood over my shoulder an cracked 'er whip an' I jumped, let me tell you! Shit, I musta been patchin' two or three lads up a day, an' mixin' pots an' pots of medicine fer the girls. There was lots ta do and weren't no time fer me ta be slow about it. If I didn't get it right the first or second time, I'd have the shit of it, an' if I couldn't keep up, she'da passed me over fer someone who  _could_ , just like someone were passed on for me ta do the work. Then I'd probably be shovelin' shit in the sewers since I weren't no good fer breedin' yet."

"An' she were a good teacher," Rukhash continued, looking thoughtful. "She weren't all 'this plant does this an' that plant does that'. It were more 'this  _smell_  is what yer lookin' fer, an' don't put these smells together'. That helped me a lot, 'specially when I went north, Lots of the plants she used didn't grow there, an' I had ta make some switch outs." Rukhash fixed him with a poignant look. "She knows  _so much_ , Cadoc. Hundreds of years she's been alive, doin' this, an' it's all up  _here_ ," she tapped her temple. "There's medicines she's makin' fer this clan comin' at I didn't even know  _existed_. Stuff for the older folks ta ease their aches and fer lads ta help 'em get it up," she snickered. "Plus the healin' medicine I made fer you an' draught, which is tricky ta get right."

"You sound excited," he said.

"I guess I am," she admitted. "Most'a what I know is how ta see ta wounds and breedin' girls... well, an' poisons," she added anxiously. "We made them fer the archers' arrows…" She brushed off her solemn tone. "But there's more ta learn'n that. Medicine ta help folks with day ta day problems. Like 'er hands. She makes somethin' special fer that: a poultice and a drink ta help 'em not seize up. Her joints is  _bad_ , but there's other older folks here what use somethin' less intense. An' all the oils she makes fer different skin conditions an' tons'a different teas an' powders and…" She frowned at him. "I'm borin' you, ain't I."

"Not at all," Cadoc told her, draining his cup. "I am pleased that you are so excited."

"But you  _are_  bored," she said, looking him over. "You just gotta give it a bit, Cadoc. The hunters'd be lucky ta have you with 'em, if they could get their great big heads outta their arses and see that."

Cadoc shook his head lightly. "It's fine, Rukhash," he told her.

"You wanna give me a hand?" she offered. "I'm sure Grazad has a spare needle, and I'd rather not spent all day on this."

"Would she mind if I borrowed it?"

"She's lending us her  _cave_ , Cadoc," she laughed. "I'm sure a needle ain't an issue. Folks'll usually share what they have with you if yer invited in their spot. Just don't bend it or nothin'."

"I would be happy to assist you," he said. "And I promise to be very careful with Grazad's possessions."

She smiled brightly and stood, going back into the cave to rifle through Grazad's things. Cadoc stared at his empty cup. The last thing he wanted was to be a burden, or worse, a housekeeper. Not that he minded keeping things tidy, but he had no desire to become this clan's live-in, mannish maid, even if they  _could_  use one.

His dour thoughts were interrupted by a pair of round, red eyes just in his line of sight. His tiny, impish admirer had found him again. "Hello, Gruk," Cadoc greeted politely.

The boy stared at him as if he were seeing into infinity.

"He gets that shit from 'is mum," Takhbork said as he sauntered over. The wiry goblin sat down just behind Gruk and flicked at the fluffy dollop of hair on the top of his tiny head. "Oi, you," Takhbork growled. "Quit that."

Gruk kept staring.

"Fiilmor thinks it's fuckin' hilarious," the goblin muttered, leaning towards Cadoc. "She hovers right  _here_ ," he held his palm a scant few inches from his face, " while I'm sleepin' and I wake up with big ol' eyes in my face. Scares the shit outta me. One'a these days, I swear, she's gonna freak me out good an' I'm gonna pop 'er one." He gestured towards Gruk. "Now 'e does it too…  _Oi_ , I said. Quit that!"

Gruk turned his head towards the older goblin and, rotating his body independently, fixed his unnerving attention on Takhbork. The orc let out a long suffering sigh.

Cadoc was suddenly struck by how similar their body types were. Even the growth of their hair was the same: a small patch, curly and black, directly on the top of their head. "Gruk is your son?"

Takhbork gave him an odd look. "Yea, he's mine, the little weirdo." He leaned in close to the boy. "Who's yer dad?"

Gruk put his tiny palm in the middle of Takhbork's brow, half covering his nose. The goblin squinted, a pleased smile on his face. "Ain't talkin' yet, but least he's not stupid."

An excited gasp came from Grazad's cave. "Li'l mite!"

Gruk, in his first show of truly childlike behavior that Cadoc had ever seen, broke into a wide smile, his ears perking, and rushed at Rukhash. He hopped right into her arms and they immediately began warbling at each other.

"You two are old pals, eh?" Takhbork said, with a quirked mouth.

"I met Fiilmor an' him last night," Rukhash explained as she held the boy's wrists up and swung him from side to side. Gruk giggled uncontrollably. "She said 'er  _shaûk_  were playin' bones, but I didn't know it were you. Oi, I'm Rukhash."

"Takhbork," he supplied.

"I like yer girl," she said, settling the imp on her lap.

"Well, I like yer man alright," the goblin replied with a nod towards Cadoc. "He knows how ta hide some dice."

Her eyes were twinkling, mischievous. "I learn somethin' new 'bout you every day," she said to Cadoc. "You cheat yer friends out of their savings?"

Cadoc felt his face go hot. "I did nothing of the sort," he said indignantly. "I learned sleight of hand from a merchant in Minas Tirith. When he was little, Holgar always enjoyed when I made cards disappear, or coins appear from nowhere. And if everyone is cheating," he added, glancing towards Takhbork, "then I would not consider it cheating at all; merely part of the game."

The goblin snorted. "Call it what'cha like, but yer pretty good at it. Still plan on winnin' my knives back from you."

Cadoc raised a brow at him. "We shall see…"

"Oh," Rukhash pulled Gruk's hands away from her collar. The boy seemed very interested with looking down her shirt. "Sorry, lil' blighter. I know they're smellin' good right now, but I ain't makin' no milk yet."

"I were takin' him ta Bregut fer that," Takhbork explained, lifting Gruk from Rukhash's lap. "Me'n Fiilmor're in the forge today." He gave Cadoc a hopeful look. "Don't suppose you done no forge work afore."

"Not particularly," Cadoc said thoughtfully. "But I am not  _un_ familiar with it."

"Can you manage a bellows? That ain't hard'n it'd free up one'a us ta do some hammerin'."

Cadoc nodded, feeling hopeful. "That I could do," he said and glanced towards Rukhash. "Unless  _you_  wanted my help."

A pleased smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I think I can spare ya," she said and, turning to Takhbork added, "I'll take 'im ta Bregut. Met her and her li'l girl too. She's up at the top cave, yea?"

"That's her," he said, passing off Gruk.

Rising, she grabbed the boy's tiny hand and, with a practiced move, swung him around her body. He instinctively clung to her shoulders, his short legs wrapped around her waist. "C'mon li'l blighter," she said cheerfully looking at him. "It's eatin' time."

Takhbork regarded her thoughtfully as she began climbing towards the upper caves. "She's real good with sprogs, yea?"

"She is," Cadoc said softly.

The goblin gave him a bemused look. "So!" he said sharply, with a hard thump to Cadoc's shoulder. "Off to work!"

"Indeed," Cadoc agreed and rose. He ducked into the cave to grab his shirt and followed Takhbork out of the main den.

* * *

The clan's forge was located closer to the surface to allow for proper ventilation. Takhbork led Cadoc down a long, winding tunnel that inclined up, slowly at first, and then at a startlingly sharp angle, so that he was nearly climbing for the last hundred or so feet. All around was pitch black, and Takhbork had to guide his hands to the first few handholds cut into the rock. It was slow going at first, but eventually Cadoc discovered a pattern to the holds, and he stopped relying on his useless eyes, using his hands to find them instead. "There you are," the goblin had grunted approvingly before scurrying ahead. When they arrived at the forge, Cadoc looked around in wonder. It was enormous, a cave that was carved into a perfect box, with even floors and walls and ceiling. The forge itself extended deep into the mountain, with several furnaces along the longest wall, but only the furnace near the entrance was lit.

A female orc was working the bellows her face and neck covered in sweat. Cadoc could only assume this was Fiilmor. She wore a leather jerkin, and her messy, curly hair was cropped short. Cadoc realized where Gruk inherited his eyes from. Fiilmor's eyes were large and red, more almond shaped than her son's, but then, Cadoc imagined they might have seemed much larger when she was small. She glanced up as they entered, first towards Takhbork and then at the ranger behind him.

"Oh," she breathed. "Please tell me he knows how ta swing a hammer."

"He knows how ta work a bellows," Takhbork supplied.

"Even better!"

After a brief exchange of names – in which Cadoc learned that this was, indeed, Fiilmor and she was more than happy to see some help sent their way – Cadoc was instructed on the bellows. There was a large pedal on the ground, and a rope set above for balance. All Cadoc had to do was maintain a steady rhythm of pressing down with his foot and releasing. The bellows would do the rest. It was hard work and, after an hour, he felt like his thigh was on fire. Per Fiilmor's suggestion, he kept switching legs, and that was how he spent most of his day, billowing the fire while Fiilmor and Takhbork melted iron and sorted out the massive amount of slag; poured moulds for arrowheads; and mended some cracked, pitted blades. The pair of goblins worked with swift, deft hands, both well practiced in their craft. Fiilmor chattered aimlessly, often shouting over the ring of her hammer, while Takhbork nodded, an oddly pleased, quiet smile on his face, and listened. They had obviously worked alongside one another for a long time. Cadoc enjoyed watching them.

Well past midday, or midnight, as it most likely was, they were finished firing and Cadoc helped sharpen arrowheads on one of the dusier pedal wheels in the back of the forge. Takhbork and Fiilmor worked on the wheels closer to the front.

When he brought the small box of arrowheads to Takhbork for inspection, Cadoc had to ask, "Forgive my curiosity, but why is this forge so large? It seems you barely use a quarter of it."

"Eh?" Takhbork picked through the sharp points. "It's from afore the Call, back when this tribe were loads bigger. After a couple'a generations in Lúgburz, not everyone made it back 'ere." He gave Cadoc a pleased look. "These look arright, you know. Ground a few a bit too much, but they's still usable."

"Thank you," Cadoc said, feeling pleased with himself.

They sorted their night's work into several different bins. Wiping his face, Cadoc took a long drink from their communal pitcher before passing it off to Takhbork. "Don't know about you," the goblin said, sniffing himself, "but I could use a bath."

"I certainly could use one as well," Cadoc agreed, peeling his sweat soaked shirt away from his skin. The fire of the furnace had been banked for an hour, but the forge was still intensely hot.

"Oh!" Fiilmor exclaimed. "I'll go see if I can wrangle Rukhash. We could all grab a bath together." She was nearly out the door when she added, "We'll meet'cha down there!"

The orcess was gone before Cadoc could express his discomfort with bathing alongside another man's woman. Or with another male bathing alongside  _his_  woman. Deciding to let go of old habits, Cadoc chose to roll with it. Communal baths were, as he recalled, something orcs in a clan did quite often. Cadoc felt surprisingly comfortable with Takhbork and his  _shaûk_ , so it was probably best that this would be his first foray into such an experience, as opposed to find himself bathing with a large group of orcs he did not care for.

"She is very exuberant," Cadoc observed.

"Always been that way," the goblin alongside him chuckled. "Even when we was back in Lugbûrz, and the shadow were pressin' down on us."

There was an affectionate tone to Takhbork's voice, and Cadoc smiled quietly at that. In a way, it was nice to meet a fellow  _shaûk._ There was something strangely familiar about it, like happily married men discussing their beloved spouses.

"So," Cadoc said, "where do we have our bath?"

* * *

"I will admit," Cadoc said, sinking into the warm water, " I am very impressed."

The goblin grunted and submerged himself up to his chin. "If I fall asleep, make sure I don't drown."

Takhbork had led him out of the forge and down a series of dark tunnels to a shallow lake. Above them, there were crystalline rocks that glowed softly, so the water was illuminated enough for Cadoc to see fine wisps of steam drifting up. A "hot lake", Takhbork had called it, and that was exactly what it was. Somehow, the water of this underground lake was naturally heated. The ranger had heard of such thing occurring before, warm springs that bubbled to the surface in the far north, but he had never seen one. Now that he was bathing in hot water, a luxury he thought he would never be afforded again, he wondered if staying here might not be as bad as he thought.

"What is making them glow?" Cadoc asked, staring listlessly at the crystals above.

Takhbork shrugged next to him. "Dunno," he admitted. "Some rocks'll just glow if the light hits 'em right. We ain't so far from the outside here, so maybe the moonlight's gettin' through 'em somehow. They get brighter in the day"

"I thought we were at the heart of the mountain," Cadoc said. "It felt like we kept going deeper and deeper."

"Naw," the goblin drawled. "We was just skirtin' an edge."

A moment of relaxed silence passed while both man and goblin stared up at the soft glow above them. Cadoc had to admit, it was rather beautiful. In all his life, he never thought to see such a thing, and especially not in a den of orcs.

"You done good today," Takhbork said suddenly. "It were a big help havin' an extra hand. Me an' Fiilmor got twice as much done."

"It was good to be useful," Cadoc admitted. "I appreciate you enduring my inexperience."

"Eh, weren't as bad as ya thought," the goblin told him. "You sure you ain't never worked in a forge before? You ain't bad at it. With a bit'a practice, ya might be pretty good."

Cadoc beamed a little at his praise. "Actually, when I was younger, I was briefly apprenticed to the village blacksmith," Cadoc told him. "And then I was with the local carpenter for a slightly longer time… My mother would have preferred me to choose a more peaceful occupation, but I never had the patience or skill for a craftsman's profession."

"Skill comes wit' practice," Takhbork scoffed. "As fer patience, you seemed pretty patient today, mindin' them billows fer hours. Sometimes when yer older, you find 'at things fit ya better'n when you was a lad. Shit, when I were a boy, all I wanted ta do was battle. Couldn't hit the broadside of a warg with an arrow, an' my nose were shit, so they kept me in the forges with my mum. Now I'm glad fer it. I like usin' my hands, makin' things…" He cast a sidelong look at Cadoc. "How'd you like it, workin' with me'n Fiilmor? Think you might want ta keep up with it?"

Cadoc blinked at him. "Are you offering to train me, Takhbork?"

The orc shrugged. "With you lendin' a hand, me'n Fiilmor'll get twice as much done. That'll give me a day're three a week ta show you how ta swing a hammer. I was thinkin', maybe I show you how ta do a bit a forgin', an' you can help me with my aim. Wouldn't mind bein' a better archer, myself. Or throwin' my knives a bit straighter. Tried ta get Ashplak ta show me, but he's the worst bloody teacher there is. Spent more time laughin' at me'n showin' me nothin'." Takhbork gave him a hopeful look. "How 'bout it, then?"

Learning a new craft was something that Cadoc had never considered. No craftsman would take on a man his age, not in Gondor, at any rate. But, of all the skills he could learn, metalworking would be the best of them. He extended his hand towards the goblin smith. "It's a deal," he agreed.

Grinning, Takhbork shook his hand. "That's a lad!" he said, sounding pleased. "I knew I liked you the moment you made that dice poof up yer sleeve. 'Sides, it's nice havin' another bloke here what's as weird as I am with 'is girl."

Cadoc frowned at that. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Fiilmor says you an' yer girl got an exclusive thing," he said.

"That is true…"

Takhbork gave him a stern look. "You ain't the only jelous type. When me'n Fiil promised ta be  _shaûk_ , I told 'er, 'I don't like smellin' other lads on ya.' I tell ya, it makes me see bleedin' red. Girls I can handle – I don't know why you'd give up havin' a peek on that – but  _oi_ , I get it. Yer a little more of the jelous type'n I am."

"Rukhash said that our exclusivity would not be common," Cadoc said, liking Takhbork just a little more than he did.

"It ain't," the goblin confirmed. "I hear shit about it all the bleedin' time, but fuck if I care, an' she's my  _shaûk_  'cause she gets it. I'm a selfish bastard. An' I don't screw around wit' no girls unless she brings 'em around. That's what we'd agreed on. It's worked out fer us for a long while now."

"So you are not,  _quite_  exclusive," Cadoc said.

"Eh," Takhbork shrugged. "More'n most'n less'n some. Everyone works out their own deal when they're  _shaûk_ , an' that was ours."

As if summoned by their discussion, Fiilmor's cheerful, growling voice called from the darkness, "Look who I found!"

She appeared from the tunnel leading to the lake with Rukhash at her side, a roll of clothing tucked in her arm. One of Rukhash's attire augmentations was to turn one of her too-small tunics into a skirt alone. Cadoc blinked a little at her naked breasts, feeling slightly uncomfortable that she was so exposed publicly.

"Where's our boy?" Takhbork asked his  _shaûk_.

Fiilmor grinned mischievously. "I ditched 'im wit' Ranmor an' 'er bints. They's watchin' the lil' sprogs right now. They can watch 'im too."

Rukhash noticed Cadoc's blinking expression, and frowned, gesturing to herself. "It's arright, yea? It's bleedin' hot in the den, an' Grazad says they don't even got no proper winters here."

He was embarrassed by his own prudishness, and the perplexed look both goblins flashed him. In reality, Rukhash looked no different than all the other orcesses here. "Fair is fair," he said with a small smile. "If I can walk around without a shirt, than so can you."

She fixed him with an appreciative smile while she undid the knot on her skirt. "I brought a change fer you, since you was in such a rush ta get here," she said as she set her bundle down.

While Fiilmor and Rukhash undressed, Cadoc, out of old habit, trained his eyes respectfully down at the water. He heard Takhbork say next to him, "Yer the bleedin' most polite bloke I ever met."

"Takhbork," Fiilmor rumbled, "what're you doin'?"

Glancing askew, Cadoc realized that Takhbork had also trained his eyes down, crossing his long arms over his chest. "We had a talk," the goblin said gesturing towards Cadoc, "an' if he's sport enough not ta stare at you arse nekkid 'en I won't stare at 'is girl neither."

The orcesses splashed into the water. Though his eyes remained on the glistening surface, he could hear them parting the water as they slipped over to the ledge across from he and Takhbork. Cadoc looked up at Rukhash, and was relieved that both she and Fiilmor were modestly covered by the waterline. She rolled her eyes at him. "You're gonna make everyone here weird, ain't ya?"

"It ain't 'is fault," Fiilmor mumbled. "Takhbork were weird afore."

"Good," Rukhash pointed between the two males, "'en you two can be weird together."

Takhbork chuckled. "Oi, Fiil," he pointed to Cadoc, "we got us a solid helper."

The orcess brightened. "Yea?" she grinned at Cadoc. "We could use it. All the young lads wanna hunt. No one wants ta swing a hammer no more."

"I would be happy to learn," Cadoc told her, "if you can put up with my ignorance."

Shaking his head in amusement, Takhbork elbowed him. "You'll do fine," he said easily.

Across from him, Rukhash sported a soft, knowing smile. Cadoc smiled back.

Cadoc liked Takhbork, and Fiilmor got on brilliantly with Rukhash. The four of them talked until their skin began to prune, about the forge and the gossip running about the cave and the work they had backlogged in the forge. After their bath, the group of them dressed and headed back to the main den, where Fillmor gathered up Gruk for his evening meal. Cadoc and Rukhash found themselves invited over for dinner, which consisted of boiled roots and a half charred rabbit Fiilmor's had caught earlier that evening. Orcish food was bland, but Cadoc enjoyed the company. It had been a long time, it seemed, since he had a day so mundane. Cadoc missed a lack of excitement.

Later, after they said goodbye to the couple and Rukhash had appropriately riled up Gruk, they returned to Grazad's cavern. The old woman was fast asleep and the pair slipped quietly into bed. Rukhash sidled up to Cadoc and whispered in ear, "You made a friend."

"I think I made two," he replied and kissed her chastly on the lips.

She grinned at him. "Three, if yer countin' Gruk." Laying her head on his chest, she sighed contently. "So," she said quietly, "how's this goin so far?"

"Better than I thought it would," Cadoc admitted.


	54. Out of Legend

**Splint  
** **Chapter 54: Out of Legend**

* * *

He was lost. Turning another corner, Cadoc's feeble lantern glinted off of a very familiar cluster of rocks, and a part of him wept a little. Waking before anyone else, all he wanted to do was fetch some water, so that Rukhash and Grazad would be spared that extra chore when they woke up, and now he was so turned around, he was not even sure what direction he had come from originally. He had followed Gaidurb's directions to the letter. He was sure of it. Cadoc chastised himself for not being more suspicious of the hunter's easy assistance. Making a hasty choice, Cadoc veered left and hoped he would come upon  _something_. Certainly, these tight, narrow tunnels couldn't go on forever.

The lantern barely extended his vision a few feet. It was low on oil, and Cadoc did not have any more to fill it with. He thought this trip would take only a few minutes, but he was very sure that he had been down here for  _hours_. If he ever found a way out of here, he would have to pay that orc back for his dubious directions. Cadoc had a brief vision of his own, wasted body as it rotted in a dark tunnel. Feeling a little panicky, he hastened his pace. The walls closed in around him and the tunnel pitched sharply right. He rounded the turn, and then, the ground vanished from under him.

He dropped the lantern and pail, and they clamored down the hole to be swallowed by the pitch. He slid for a solid minute down an angled shaft before bracing himself against the walls, but they were slick and he slipped. Cadoc tried to gain purchase twice, only to have his hands and feet slide off the slippery granite. Then, the angled shaft became vertical, and he fell down, down, for a breathless minute, the dark all around him. The floor came up to meet the back of his head and he knew no more.

* * *

She felt Cadoc slip out of bed; heard him snatch up the water pail and dig through their packs for his lantern; and smiled to herself as he snuck out of the cave. He was so thoughtful, sparing them a walk to the river when they woke. Rukhash wouldn't mind getting an earlier start with Grazad. The old orcess was feeding her more advanced lessons separately from Bhrafmor, and a little extra time with her would be useful.

Rukhash dozed a bit, slipping in and out of sleep. At first, she assumed Cadoc had been waylaid by Takhbork on his way back. She heard the goblin's voice drifting in from the main den, but then it faded off, and Cadoc had still not returned. An anxious feeling settled over her. Did he know that proper route to the river? She wasn't sure. Rukhash had been there with Grazad, but to her knowledge, Cadoc had not been made aware of the series of tunnels leading to the clan's drinking water.

She bolted upright and hurried outside the cave. Several of the hunters were gathered with Chief Dufkarn, quietly discussing their hunting strategy for the night. She noticed Takhbork wandering aimlessly, peering into some of the lower dens, and rushed over to him. She spun him by the shoulder, and before he could say anything, blurted out, "Have you seen Cadoc?"

He blinked at her. " _Nar_ ," he admitted. "Were lookin' fer 'im myself. It's 'bout time we headed to the forge." Rukhash felt her head spin, and her worry must have shown, because it was suddenly reflected in Takhbork's face. "You ain't seen 'im neither?" he asked.

"He woke up early'n went ta fetch some water…" A low chuckle caught her ear, and she reeled on the pack of hunters seated in the middle of the den. Gaidurb was smirking like a malicious idiot. " _What did you do?"_ Rukhash shrieked at him.

Every hunter turned to stare at her, and then turned towards Gaidurb. Dufkarn frowned. "You didn't off the bastard, did ya?" the chief grumbled, noting his new healer's rising panic.

" _Nar, nar_ ," the hunter waved them off. "He were lookin' fer the river'n I sent 'im down the old tunnels. The  _tark_ 's probably runnin himself in circles right now."

"You fuckin' prick!" Takhbork hissed. "We lost Nurza down dem old tunnels. It's a bleedin' maze down there."

Rukhash did not stay to listen to the rest of their conversation. She ran to Grazad's bedside. The old orcess was still fast asleep, but Rukhash was in a panic. She shook the old woman's shoulder. "Grazad," she hissed. "Get up! Cadoc's missing."

" _Sha_ ," the old healer sneered. "The fuck? He's probably takin' a piss." She grunted and rolled over.

"It don't take near an hour ta piss," Rukhash growled and shook her again. "He went ta fetch water, an' that arsehole Gaidurb sent 'im down some old tunnels. Get up, you lazy hag, an' help me find 'im!"

The old orcess's arm swiped at her, but Grazad slowly sat up, blinking wearily. "That fucking man a yers is a pain in my arse," she grumbled. She struggled to her feet. "And so's that snot Gaidurb." She shuffled out of her den and pointed at the young hunter that had tricked Cadoc. "I'm gonna box yer ears!" she raged "An' if that man ain't cracked his skull open, I'm boxin'  _his_!"

"Fine!" Rukhash agreed, pulling on her arm. "Just help me find 'im."

"Easy!" Dufkarn roared, slapping his hand on Rukhash's shoulder. She stilled, but glared at him. The chief looked to Grazad. "You was here afore the Call. You know yer way down there right enough?"

"Right enough," the old orcess sighed. "Ain't much down there but empty dens an' dried-up, old veins of iron."

"That's fine, then," the chief nodded. "Gaidurb, yer arse is with me. We're goin' down there with Grazad and findin' the Man."

"Com'on, then, chief…" the hunter whined.

"You started this!" Dufkarn growled. He turned towards Rukhash. "You stay here, girl. We'll find yer  _shaûk_."

She growled at him. "The fuck I am! You'll have ta tie me up ta keep me from –"

Dufkarn clutched her jaw in his massive hand. "Don't give me lip!" Rukhash pressed her lips together and exhaled sharply, her whole body quivering with rage. This bitch was furious, Dufkarn could see it in her eyes. Damn Gaidurb anyway. Dufkarn had told the lads that Grazad's former pupil was needed. If something happened to the old healer, they would need Rukhash to keep up with the orders from other clans that ensured them a steady stream of supplies. Her Man was an inconvenience, but not the worst inconvenience. He had given everyone very clear orders: so long as he didn't cause any trouble, they were to leave the  _tark_  alone.

Here, Gaidurb had gone and flipped a finger at his orders, and the chief was furious. Now their whole morning would be wasted finding the stupid arsehole attached to this orcess instead of hunting to feed their growing clan. Grazad's potions only provided them with so much.

"Come along then," Dufkarn acquiesced. The last thing he needed was her following behind and getting  _herself_  lost. "But you stay close ta us. No dashin' off."

Rukhash nodded. Takhbork stepped up and offered, "I'll go too."

The chief raised a brow at him, but gave him a sharp nod of approval. Takhbork was narrower in build than Dufkarn and Gaidurb. He would rather the smith wriggle into a hole than ancient Grazad, and Rukhash was in no condition to wriggle into anything.

A small team assembled, Dufkarn sent Turgrat out with the hunters and led the four orcs with him out of the main den and down the series of corridors to the start of the Old Tunnels. When they had arrived here from Lugbúrz, they occupied the upper den because of the convenient water supply and easy access to the forge and outside. Dufkarn and the warriors had made a few forays into those endless holes, but quickly decided that mapping them out was a massive waste of time. There was nothing but mile after mile of tight corners and dead ends. After they lost Nurza down there, and searched several days for him to no avail, he had ordered folks to stay out of them. They had a reliable vein of iron and more than enough space for the clan to grow into. There was nothing worth exploiting down there, as far as he could see. For the past ten years, he had barely given them any thought.

* * *

At first he thought he was dead. It was a foolish thought, but when Cadoc blinked awake to darkness, it was the first thing that popped into his head. Then, he thought he had broken something, but an experimental flexing of his limbs revealed that was wrong as well. He ached  _everywhere_ , but he was able to sit up; his head tender, but not wet with blood. He sat on the damp, stone ground for several, long minutes, listening to a steady drip coming from somewhere and trying to decide what to do next.

Reaching out, Cadoc brushed his hand along the floor. His fingertips bumped against the metal pail he had been carrying, and the sound it made, as it rolled away, sounded like a cacophony. Folding his legs underneath, Cadoc stood slowly, with his palm above his head, and his caution saved him another bump as his hand collided with the ceiling. The shaft he had fallen from was not high off the ground, and his attempts to slow his descent probably saved him a broken neck.

Following the ceiling, using his touch to guide him, Cadoc found the wall. He pressed his palms against its cool surface, and rested his forehead against it with a sigh.  _What now?_  he thought. Should he stay, and hope someone found him? Or keep going in the hopes that he would come across the orc den again?

The steady drip continued, but Cadoc lifted his head and listened hard. He could have sworn he heard something, a shuffling noise. He stood motionless in the dark, but only the drip greeted him back. Nothing. He heard no other noise. Perhaps he imagined it, but his heart thundered nonetheless. It was probably the press of the darkness around him, his inability to see anything but void. His fine hairs prickled, and Cadoc decided to keep moving. One hand on the wall, he dragged his toes against the floor with each step, determined not to fall down another shaft in the floor. With his luck, it would not be nearly as shallow as the last hole he plummeted down.

He walked this way for several minutes, the drip sounding farther with each step, when he heard the same shuffling from before. With his next step, something snapped beneath his heel that was not a piece of wood. Cadoc stopped where he was, stooped, and slowly pulled his knife from his boot. The shuffling continued, sounding quicker and more desperate, growing closer until his blade was free, and then it ceased. Whatever was with him in the dark could see well enough to know he was armed, and was smart enough not to hazard an attack. Cadoc's heart thundered.

He took a shuddering breath. "Hello?" he said quietly, barely above a whisper, and it sounded like he was shouting.

The shuffling moved to his left. It sounded distant, hollow, as if the tunnel he was in was not a tunnel at all, but a much larger cave. And perhaps it was. Cadoc had no idea what landscape the darkness hid from him. "Who is there?" Cadoc said, turning towards the sound and readying his knife. His voice wavered, but he could not say he was embarrassed by the unsteadiness. Cadoc had never been more terrified in all his life, not even when he stood before a horde of orcs at the gates of Morannon.

He pressed his back against the wall and held his blade before him. "Answer!" he ordered.

There was a growl in the dark.

"I have not come to hurt you, whoever you are," he told the growl. "I am staying with the orcs in these caverns. If you are an orc as well, then I assure you, I am not your enemy."

A hissing voice, like flutter of dried leaves, spoke, " _No orcs anymore. Only men in Old Granny's caves_."

Whatever was speaking to him did not sound like any orc he had encountered. It was not a soft hiss, like Grazad's voice; or a rumble, like Rukhash's; or a bright growl, like Takhbork's; or even a hateful snarl, like Thraangzi's. It sounded like a ghost, something long dead and turned to ash. "Trust me," Cadoc said, unnerved. "There  _are_  orcs here. And I would very much like to find them, if you could show me the way out."

" _I_  c _an smell your light_."

Then there were no words exchanged. A heavy, stout body collided with Cadoc, throwing him against the wall and knocking the knife from his hand. Teeth tore into his shoulder, and there were claws digging into his chest. Cadoc shouted in alarm and acted instinctively, grabbing whatever had a hold on him around its thick, fleshy neck, squeezing. It gasped and that was enough to dislodge it and throw it off.

Grasping frantically, Cadoc found his knife just before the creature barreled into him again. His knee was between them, but its arms were long enough to swipe across his chest and tear through his shirt. A startled cry erupted from his throat as he struck out with his knife. It yielded to something soft and the creature flung itself away from him, yelping like a wounded hound.

The creature was still there, shuffling just out of his reach and hissing. At least it was making noise. Cadoc could judge its position from that. He stood and backed himself against the wall again, stooping and brandishing his weapon. Judging by its weight and grasp, it was about the height of his waist, and Cadoc did not want this thing to have a clear run at his belly.

A voice called out his name, distant, but familiar. It was Rukhash, and Takhbork's rumbling shout soon followed. They sounded far away. Too far.

"Here!" he shouted. "Rukhash, I am  _here_!"

The hissing stopped. " _How does the man know Old Granny's name?_ "

"Your name?" he asked, intrigued, but also hoping to buy a little time. With luck, Rukhash and Takhbork were closer than they sounded. "Your name is  _Rukhash_?"

" _Rukhash, Wolf Mother, Minya Urko…"_

Cadoc blinked into the darkness, and remembered legends. Now, he heard Grazad's voice, and the booming shout of the chief calling for him.

"Here!" Cadoc shouted again.

The creature snarled. " _You won't trick me, firya-sha! The other men come for you, but I'll snuff your light out first!"_

Again, there was no warning as the creature dove for his legs. It bit at his boots, but there were not many teeth in that mouth, and the leather was too thick for it to tear. But it's jaws were strong, and it clamped down hard enough to bruise. Cadoc stabbed at it, but missed, catching air. It snatched his wrist and Cadoc struggled to keep his grip on the knife.

" _Cadoc_!" Rukhash's shrieking voice was close, and there was a light at the far end of the tunnel. Cadoc lashed out with his foot, kicking the creature away from him, and sprinted towards the light. The thing in the dark was right on his heels.

It caught him around the waist and Cadoc collapsed. It's heavy jaws clamped on his shoulder. The slap of running feet, light engulfed him quickly, and Rukhash's familiar roar echoed around him. Then, there was a loud crack as her fist collided with the creature's head, throwing it off of him.

She was pulling him up off the ground. "Cadoc, my Cadoc!" Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she was sobbing softly into his chest. Cadoc blinked, his eyes adjusting to the weak light. Over her shoulder, Takhbork held a candle and beyond him stood the chief and Gaidurb. Grazad was hurrying to catch up.

The orcs stared past him, towards the prone, unconscious form on the ground. "The fuck is  _that_?" Gaidurb growled, blinking in awe. The light revealed an orc like no orc Cadoc had ever seen before. It's snout was long, muzzle-like, and it's skin was covered in wiry, sparse hair. It shared the common goblin body type, with long arms and short legs and rat-like feet, but it's hands and feet were disproportionately large. Cadoc felt fortunate it's slack mouth sported only a few good teeth, and it's claws were blunt and brittle looking, but he marveled at the strength in that wasted body. Though it's head and shoulders were broad and powerful looking, the orc's ribs were jutting out and it's spine was visible enough to count the vertebrae.

"Old Granny," Grazad breathed.

The chief glared down at her. "You  _know_  this crazy old cunt?"

The old healer opened and closed her mouth like a fish. "She were here… since I were small. She were older'n the hills even then, looney too, wouldn't answer the Call. When we come back and she weren't here… thought she finally popped off." She shuffled forward and placed a gentle palm on the unconscious orc's face. "Fuck," Grazad whispered. "Old Granny, still kickin."

"Yer granny near ate my  _shaûk_ ," Rukhash hissed. Cadoc had collapsed against her, his injuries and exhaustion catching up now that the adrenaline had left him, and Takhbork was forced to support his other side.

Gaidurb wandered into the cavern that opened up outside the cover of the ledge they were under. "Guess we know where Nurza got off to," he said, poking a white skull with his toe.

Rukhash realized there were many skulls in this cavern: smaller orc skulls and man skulls and the skulls of large rodents. She glanced at the Dufkarn. "You missin' anyone else?"

The stout chief frowned deeply, baring his fangs. "A sprog're two over the years," he admitted, frowning deeply. "Always figured they got outside somehow, what with how the kids roam. Ain't so odd ta loose one're two, you know." A determined look on his face, he pulled his short sword from his belt. "Outta the way, old girl," he said to Grazad.

Grazad positioned herself between the chief and Old Granny. "Don't you dare!" she glared at him. "She's been here 'fore any of us. Weren't always mad like this. Used ta sing ta me when I were a little sprog. I ain't lettin' you kill 'er."

"Are you bleedin' daft?" Takhbork spat. "She's  _eatin'_  sprogs. We can't let 'er wander."

"I'll make it quick fer 'er," Dufkarn assured the old healer. "'At's more'n anyone can ask fer."

"Dufkarn, I don't ask you fer nothin'," the old orcess insisted. The chief glanced briefly at Cadoc and Rukhash as they began to make their way back down the tunnel. "Well," Grazad amended, "I don't ask you fer _much_ , an' I bring in a lot. We got them cells we ain't used since you put a stop to the raids. We can put 'er in one a those. She can even have some a  _my_  cut, so you won't have ta spare anythin' on 'er."

Dufkarn regarded the old healer thoughtfully. He had known Grazad for nearly twenty years, and she had never pleaded with him so earnestly. Rukhash she had vouched for with sensible logic, but Dufkarn saw no logic in keeping a cannibalistic orcess as a pet. He was ready to slide the old woman out of the way, but paused in his judgement. The expression on Grazad's face begged his consideration. He had never seen her so unguarded. Grazad was not prone to sentimentality, and to see it now, Dufkarn wondered if he really knew this old girl as well as he thought. Maybe that was how everyone got when they were old.

He glanced again at Old Granny, out cold, her mouth slack and drooling. Grazad really didn't ask for much, and she had gone along with Ranmor's pushy insistence that Bhrafmor be trained with little trouble, and that had saved Dufkarn a lot of headache. Never mind the priceless commodity of her medicines. Perhaps, he could bend to her in this. Having that man hang around hadn't been the worst thing so far. "She's  _your_ responsibility," Dufkarn told her. "An' the second you die, she dies with you. It's a waste, if you as me, but it's yer business now. If she gets out, your head is comin' off with hers."

A hopeful look passed Grazad's features. "Whatever you say," she said, sounding relieved.

* * *

_She loved the dark. The fires, though useful, always hurt her eyes. These caves were her favorite, long and winding, with enough hidden passageways to hide good. She galloped down a long hallway, squealing, as her older brother chased her. She was too fast for him! Mum was right, Grûkgat was too heavy and slow._

_She made a hard turn and collided with a body. "Sha!" a hissing voice growled, and long arms wrapped around her middle. "Little shadow, you're far from your den."_

_Grazad blinked up at the pair of icy blue eyes above her. "I was runnin'!" she said._

" _Ah," the ancient orcess nodded. "Too far, too far. Don't want to go down there, in the deeper dark. You won't find your way out. Old Granny will take you back."_

_Grûkgat appeared suddenly, sliding to a stop. "You, too, little lad," Old Granny said, waving her arm at him. "Off we go! Back to the den."_

_Her brother bounded ahead, but Grazad was still small enough to cling, and she held onto Old Granny's shoulders, nuzzling the old orcess's floppy neck. She liked Old Granny's back. It was soft and fuzzy. "None of that, none of that," Old Granny said, reaching back to rap her hard on the brow. "You'll get a spark doing that." Grazad rubbed her smarted brow, annoyed. That hurt!_

_Settling into one of the empty holes in the main den, Old Granny pulled Grazad off her shoulders and settled her in her lap. She gripped Grazad's jaw tightly, her pale eyes searching Grazad's tiny face. "That's a spark I see," she sneered, her claws pricking, and then she began to sing._

_It was a strange song with words that Grazad didn't know, hissing and biting and clawing at something inside her. It was a song about darkness and vengeance and hate, and it made Grazad's blood boil. She squirmed, feeling fierce and restless, and strained against Old Granny's arm pinning her down._

_The old orcess searched her face again. "There it goes," she said with a cruel smile. "Nasty little spark."_

__

* * *

Grazad watched Old Granny as she dismantled the half deer leg brought to her. Dufkarn had the orcess contained in one of the larger cells. This lock hole was below the main den, dank and dark. When the clan was sending out raiders, they had locked  _tark_  prisoners in here, but those days were years past, and all that remained of the cell's past tenants were dark stains on the wall.

The ancient orcess paid no attention to the old healer as she ate, and Grazad observed her, feeling oddly sad. She had known this orcess once, had spoken with her civilly, had tried to convince her to come to Lugbúrz with the rest of the clan. Old Granny refused to hear the Call. She had told Grazad that she wouldn't bend to the Will of deserters.

Whatever that meant. Old Granny had always been on the queerer side, speaking in strange riddles, singing songs that sounded like gibberish. Grazad didn't know why she wanted the old beast around. Maybe it would have been kinder to put her down.

Old Granny made a go at cracking the thick bone in her jaws, but most of her teeth were gone. She abandoned the deer leg and stared curiously at Grazad. A suspicious smile split her face, pulling at the stitches on her cheek – where Cadoc's knife had struck her – and she loped towards the sturdy bars. She bit at them tentatively and wrapped her long fingers around the iron.

" _Nice_ ,  _old Woman_ ," she hissed. " _She's not like the other men_.  _She'll let Old Granny out, yes? Old Granny won't hurt. She is nice."_ She grinned wider, revealing three, good fangs and tiny, brown teeth, like pebbles, stuck in her gums.

"Yer stayin' right where you is," Grazad growled.

Old Granny snarled and retreated further back into the cell. " _Nasty men and their nasty cage!_ "

Grazad fixed the ancient orcess with a snarl of her own. "We ain't  _tarks_ , you mad, old fuck. An' you should be thankin' me. You'd be dead now if I hadn't stepped in." The old healer's face softened. "Don't you remember me?" she asked, feeling strangely desperate. "You used ta sing ta me when I were a little mite."

A low, anxious whine echoed in Old Granny's throat.  _"No songs to help now_ ," she croaked, clutching her head. " _Can't snuff out the sparks. All the little lights._ " She wailed pitifully, like mourning, and gnashed what was left of her teeth.

The tunnel leading to the lock hole glowed softly, and Grazad turned to see Cadoc enter the small prison. Coming down to fetch her, most likely. His chest was bandaged and Rukhash had seen to the wound on his shoulder and back. He had a calm look about him, a stark contrast to the panicked Man they found in the dark tunnel. Grazad couldn't really blame him. He was blinder than a bat in the dark. Coming across Old Granny like that must have scared him shitless. The old healer was honestly impressed he hadn't wet his drawers.

The ranger grimaced at the racket Old Granny was making and turned to Grazad. "Rukhash is worried about you," he said, and Old Granny suddenly stopped her wailing to glare at him. "You've been down here for hours."

"Her lessons can wait a day," Grazad grumbled.

"It's not her lessons that concern her," Cadoc said.

"So, why're you down here instead of  _her_?"

The ranger sighed. "Because she would let you stay down here as long as you want, out of respect," Cadoc said. "But I would keep you company while you are here, just in case…" He turned to the glare of the orcess behind the bars. "Just in case," he repeated softly.

Grazad rolled her eyes and scooted over. Cadoc sat next to her, and placed the small candle he carried off to the side. Old Granny finished glaring at them and went back to gumming at her bone. "So," Cadoc said quietly as he watched her, "she is mad."

"Obviously," Grazad hissed. "If she's eatin' sprogs and wanderin' around old tunnels, she's out of her bleedin' skull. She used ta live with the clan; ate with us; talked with us. Bein' here alone so long must'a drove 'er nutty."

"That explains what she said to me," Cadoc said, sounding relieved.

Grazad frowned at him. "What she say ta you?"

"She said her name was Rukhash."

She started at that a bit. The old healer quickly brushed that thought away. "Thats daft," she scoffed. "The bitch is old, but she ain't  _that_  bleedin' old."

"Are you sure?"

Grazad glared at the man beside her as he continued to stare at Old Granny. He looked dead serious, spooked even, and Grazad felt some of her conviction falter. " _Nar_ ," she admitted. "I can't say I'm  _that_  sure, but I'm _pretty sure_. She's have ta be… fuck…  _thousands and thousands_  of years old. I can't bleedin' believe that. Ain't never heard a no one livin' that long."

Cadoc nodded quietly and Grazad sighed, returning her attention to the orcess that had once sung to her as a small child. "Did Rukhash ever tell you what happened, when the Eye fell?"

Grazad felt Cadoc's eyes on her. "The tower crumbled..." the ranger said.

" _Nar, nar_ ," Grazad interrupted, her voice soft. "Not what happened to the land. What happened ta  _her_."

There was a moment of deafening silence. "What do you mean?" Cadoc asked.

"We heard Him first," the old healer said, her voice sounding far away. "Then, it were like, yer breath was taken outta you fer a moment. But somethin' else come out too. Like… there were a hand reached in and pulled a part of you out…"

"Thing is," Grazad continued, her brow pinching, "it weren't a part you wanted. Fer me, it were like… Like I had this chain on my neck my whole life, an' someone finally took it off. I felt… lighter." She cast a poignant look on Cadoc. "And I know it were like that fer others, too. There's a few folks here I talked to about it, an' they felt the same thing. Some folks died, you know, when the Eye kicked it. Just dropped where they was, like someone snuffed 'em out where they stood…" She looked again at Old Granny. The ancient orc was staring back at her. "Maybe that's what happened ta her. Maybe it drove her off the edge."

Old Granny chuckled long and low in her throat, grinning evilly. " _That traitor meant nothing to Old Granny_." She tossed the leg bone out of her cell, at Grazad. The old healer managed to just block it from colliding with her nose. " _Get out of my face, simpering old Woman!_ "

Grazad frowned deeply and suddenly stood. "I had about enough of you!" she hissed. "Ungrateful cunt! Rot down here for all I care." She turned to Cadoc, tagging his shoulder. "Com'on lad," she said more gently. "Let's bugger off."

The ancient orcess's face grew grave and she reached through the bars. She pointed an accusing finger directly at Grazad, her lips curling back into a sneer.

" _I can smell your light._ "

* * *

**Translations**  
I struggled to find the right words in Quenya. If you find something amiss with my usage, please PM me the correct words.

**minya** (Quenya) First (cf. Minyar "Firsts", the first clan among the Elves), inga (this is also a noun "top"), *yesta (but this is a noun "beginning" according to a later source, PE17:120)

**urko**  (Quenya) Orc [seldom occurs, except in tales of the ancient days and the March, and then is vague in meaning, referring to anything that caused fear to the Elves, any dubious shape or shadow, or prowling creature.]

–ÓROK, LT1:264, WJ:390

**firya**  (Quenya) Man (lit. "mortal"; nominal pl.  **Firyar**  is attested) –PHIR, WJ:219

SOURCED: (ambar-eldaron [period] c o m) "English-Quenya"


	55. Lessons

**Splint**

**Chapter 55: Lessons**

* * *

Soft footfalls alerted her to Cadoc's return, and Rukhash cracked an eye open to find him entering Grazad's cave with a quartet of conies strung by their ankles. After their first week with the tribe, Cadoc realized their food allowance was limited to what the Dufkarn meted out from the hunts and what the tribe had stored. While Rukhash was afforded a more than fair portion for her work stitching up lads and seeing to the breeding girls, he had not particularly liked the fact that they were dependent on the good graces of the chief, especially since those graces did not include giving him a cut for his assistance in the forge. "You ain't tribe,  _tark_ ," Dufkarn had told him, when he complained about it. "Yer here learnin' a skill. Once you actually  _have_ a skill, you'll get  _paid_  fer it."

This left Cadoc and Rukhash to split what she was given. It was enough to feed them, but it was  _just enough_ , and he hadn't liked that one bit. Orcs in a tribe were allowed to keep what they caught on their lonesome, and once Rukhash had told Cadoc of this, he began setting small traps along the streams and waterways of the forest. With his tracking skills, the ranger had no trouble determining the traces of common paths that small mammals made through the brush, and the chief had paid his efforts little mind, since the lads usually went after much larger game.

For the past five days, Cadoc left the dens just as dawn was breaking, set his snares, returned to sleep through the day with the rest of the tribe, and woke long before anyone to check his traps before he headed off to the forge with Takhbork. He may have not been catching enough food to feed them without the extra portion Dufkarn allotted, but it was pleasant to have rabbit or squirrel or groundhog for breakfast, instead of the boiled-down leavings from the night before. Cadoc had bagged a quail and raided a nest yesterday, and Grazad had praised him especially for that meal. The hunters still refused to pay him any mind, but Rukhash could tell a few of the girls around the cave were jealous that she had such a thoughtful, skilled  _shaûk_. Ranmor's derisive comments were coming fewer and farther between over the past few days.

Rukhash had finally reached the point in orcish pregnancy where the sprog seemed bigger every day. Though she wasn't near the point of waddling yet, her condition was very obvious. If she had to, she could probably hunt for herself, though it wouldn't be the wisest thing to add to her long excursions with Grazad. Anyway, as protective as he was of her, she doubted Cadoc would have her along with him right now. But wait until the sprog was born and she was active again. The two of them could probably bring in a fair amount of game on their own. That was bound to impress  _someone_.

After skinning the rabbits, Cadoc set their pelts to cure the large pot of water Rukhash had been leaving out for him. His prior catches had already been boiled, and she was rather pleased at the small collection of skins drying on the wall alongside their bed. They could trade those among tribe members for little things: tools or leather or cloth – another carefully distributed luxury that Grazad's medicines paid for, and it was something they would need once the sprog was born. Compared to the diapers she was accustomed to making, the cloths Edda used for Hallas were easier to clean and change and they smelled far less than a leather cover packed with absorbent moss and soft grasses.

Rukhash's eyes darted to Grazad. The old healer was turned away, facing the wall; a snoring lump under a pile of mismatched furs. Her eyes darted back to Cadoc's thoughtful expression. "You should try for a fox tomorrow," she whispered.

Though he was occupied with spitting the conies, his mouth turned up in a pleased smile. "I didn't know you were awake," his soft tenor rumbled. "Why a fox?"

"That fur's real nice," the orcess purred. "Wouldn't mind keepin' that fer myself. I could make a little satchel from it. Oh! Or use it to line the mite's bed when it's born. I like that red fur." She smiled to herself. It had been a long time since she had some fox fur to work with.

"Then tomorrow I will catch you a fox," Cadoc confirmed. He rinsed his hands and pulled off his shirt and boots before slipping back into bed with her. Their breakfast sizzled quietly over the low hearth fire.

Rukhash grinned mischievously as he wriggled himself comfortable. "Is that how it works, yea? I'll ask you fer an animal and you'll get it for me?"

He kissed her cheek. "Anything you want."

"How about one a them badgers, with black, black stripes and a white face?"

With slow pleasure, Cadoc kissed her neck. "Then, I will get you a badger," he said.

"What about one a them black tailed deer that live deep in the forest?"

He kissed the hollow of her throat, and Rukhash giggled. That tickled! "Then, I will get you a black tailed deer," he said.

"What about a bear, like my Anba caught me, with shaggy brown fur we could use fer our bed?"

Cadoc placed a long, deep kiss on her mouth, and Rukhash nearly forgot what they were talking about. "Then, I will catch you a bear," he said, his voice warm and purring.

"I'd rather you get a fox, ta line the mite's bed with," she breathed, feeling a hot blush on her face. He was in such a mood today!

His fingers trailed lightly over her round belly, her shoulders and throat and finally settled on brushing a few stray hairs behind her ear. "A fox it is, then," he said.

"Bloody  _fuck_ ," Grazad drawled, "will you two  _screw_  already and quit all that yappin'! I'm tryin' ta bleedin' sleep."

Ignoring Cadoc's silent, flustered expression, Rukhash struggled into a sitting position so she could see past him. "Sorry, Grazad," she said, feeling disappointed. She had hoped they might sneak in a quick one before the hag woke up. "I though you was out cold. We was bein' quiet."

"You  _thought_  you was bein' quiet," Grazad corrected, not bothering to turn and face her pupil. "If I gotta hear one more sweet nothing, I'm gonna chuck. Just _fuck_  'n get it done with. At least that'll be entertainin'."

Glancing at Cadoc, Rukhash frowned at his red face. He looked completely embarrassed. "Forgot she was there fer a minute, didn't you?"

He cleared his throat and said nothing, but he  _was_  aroused just moments ago. Now, that hopeful prospect seemed to shrink with his humiliation. He had been a real sport since they arrived here, but this was one thing Rukhash did not expect him to bend in. Cadoc valued his privacy, especially when it came to intimate matters. She let out a small sigh. It seemed as though they wouldn't have the chance to be alone in the near future; not until they had their own cave, and that wouldn't be offered unless they were considered tribe.

There was no telling how long that would take. Despite some bristling comments about her  _shaûk_ , she had been getting along well with many of the folks here, even some of the higher ranking males. They were impressed with her small, even stitches and a gentler bedside manner than they were used to. But all Cadoc had in his corner at the moment, aside from her, was Takhbork and Fiilmor. The tribe's smiths did not carry much weight with the group as a whole, and Rukhash would not expect their friendship to do more than bolster Cadoc's spirits. Occasionally, he would play a round or two of bones with that rascal Ashplak and that idiot Hurug, but those two kept him at arm's length, most likely waiting to see where the wind would blow as far as he was concerned.

The wait was going to kill her, most likely. She had been viciously horny lately.

A determined look on his face, Cadoc suddenly took her hand and stood, helping her up. "Let's go for a walk," he said. "Breakfast has a while before it will be done."

"You read my mind," Rukhash replied with a rakish smile.

Grazad did not move from her spot as Cadoc led Rukhash from the cave. Listlessly, she stared at the wall in front of her, laying for several more minutes as she willed herself to get up. Some mornings, her joints didn't bother her so much, and she would rise quickly, before the pain set in. Then, there were mornings like today. She felt like one, great ache. It was probably going to rain.

The smell of breakfast finally tempted her out of bed. Grazad poked at the roasting rabbits, and pulled two off of the fire before they could cook through. Rukhash didn't seem to mind meat that was a little more done, but Grazad didn't care much for more than a light touch of flame. She was pleased that Cadoc thought to catch four conies. Grazad had been dividing her portion with Old Granny, and the ranger probably thought to spare her a short breakfast. Despite the attack on his person, Cadoc seemed to be the only person that was not baffled by Grazad's desire to keep the old orcess around.

Rukhash's man was a queer one, but Cadoc was hardly the worst man she'd met. He may have possessed a few odd habits, but he was far more thoughtful than the men that would join in with the raiding groups, back when the tribe was still raiding. Those bastards seemed more interested in eyeing up half naked females, or gambling, or laying about all day, than pitching in. Grazad hadn't been sad that they didn't stick around after Dufkarn called a stop to the raids. They were useful informants, but annoying guests. Grazad enjoyed giving Cadoc a hard time – flustering that ranger was often the high point of her day – but she actually rather liked him. Living with the young couple over the past two weeks made Grazad reconsider her distrust of Rukhash's taste in males. There were times she wanted to gag over the doe eyed looks and soft words that passed between them, but she couldn't deny that Rukhash had found herself a devoted, affable  _shaûk_.

Cadoc and Rukhash must have wandered a ways off, because Grazad had taken her medicine, pulled their portion from the fire, and was halfway through breakfast by the time they returned hand in hand; stinking like each other and sporting a pair of coy expressions. She hadn't heard whatever it was they were getting up to, but then, there were plenty of little nooks and crannies outside the main den. After his escapade in the Old Tunnels, Rukhash insisted Cadoc learn his way around, and there was no telling what little hiding spot they had found while exploring with Takhbork and Fiilmor to guide them.

They ate in companionable silence, though Rukhash kept casting dark looks at the rabbit Grazad had laid aside. She didn't like Old Granny. In fact, she was more critical of keeping the old orcess near the den than anyone else, locked up or not. Grazad supposed she couldn't blame the girl. Rukhash had no attachment to her, and Old Granny had made a good go at offing her mate. Though his wounds were now healed, Grazad could tell that the series of scars marring Cadoc's shoulder and chest bothered Rukhash deeply.

Finished with breakfast, Grazad rose, taking the spare rabbit with her, and headed out of the cave. "Be back in a minute," she said as she left Cadoc and Rukhash to their own company. Rukhash had the good sense not to argue her this time. The girl was stubborn, but Grazad was more so and had more practice in it. Old Granny was  _her_  responsibility by Dufkarn's order, and she refused to let the ancient orcess starve to death.

The tribe's lock hole was down a long, winding stair that opened up into a small cavern with a row of three dank cells on one side. Grazad remembered when they had built this place. She was a young female and some of their neighbors were becoming less friendly. Once these cells had held prisoners of battles with other tribes, then they held prisoners of raids and now they held an orc once more, though Grazad did not like to think of Old Granny as a prisoner. Orcish prisoners were not afforded regular mealtimes and the most benign company they saw was someone bearing verbal abuse. Old Granny was a guest; a very dangerous, violent, ill tempered guest.

When Grazad entered the hole, Old Granny was clutching her skull, growling nonsensical words to herself. She had been locked up for just over a week, but had already caused a share of trouble. Grazad had enlisted Rukhash and Fiilmor to help drug her and dull her claws after she gouged trenches into her bony chest; as though she planned to dig something out. Grazad thought Rukhash seemed particularly pleased to help force medicines down the ancient orcess's throat. The old healer didn't know what to do at this point. Old Granny would not speak to her except to debase her, but Grazad could not bring herself to request her execution. She pitied her, and more than that, Old Granny was the last link she had to her tribe as it was. Here, at the end of her life, she found herself oddly nostalgic for faces that had long ago passed into memory. Old Granny might not be the orcess Grazad remembered, but there was a familiarity to her that the old healer was not ready to let go of just yet.

Dufkarn had ordered the Old Tunnels sealed off, just in case there were more mad codgers like her running around down there, but Grazad doubted that was the case. If there was an army of half cocked, crazy orcs under their feet, she imagined they would have heard of them before now.

Tossing breakfast in with Old Granny, Grazad took her usual seat across from the cell. The orcess fell on her meal without a word, tearing and gumming at the cony's small body. She snarled and grunted to herself, but otherwise seemed in a quiet mood.

"Looks like them nasty scratches you give yerself're healin' up," Grazad commented.

Lifting her head, Old Granny stared quizzically at the healer. " _Sparks, sparks_ ," she hissed, idly beginning to scratch at her bandage. " _Snuff 'em out_ …" Grazad had filed her nails nearly to the pads, so the old orcess's efforts had no effect. Huffing, Old Granny went back to gnawing at the rabbit.

With a sigh, Grazad left Old Granny to her madness and made the torturous climb to the main den. She didn't have time to sit all day with insane old orcs. Grazad wasn't sure she had much time of any kind left at all. She wanted to head out and pass on another lesson to Rukhash before they had to start gathering more herbs for the next tribe's order. Bhrafmor had insisted on coming as well, and already Grazad felt exhausted.

* * *

"Fuck, Cadoc. If yer gonna keep tip tappin' it like that, ya might as well invite it over for a drink."

Ceasing the fall of his hammer, Cadoc glared at his goblin instructor and then at the length of metal he was working into shape. True to his word, Takhbork had taken some time out to train him in the finer points of smithing, something Fiilmor seemed determined to stay out of. While the goblin was a patient teacher, he was also an infuriating one. He spoke rarely, and when he did speak, it was to point out corrections. Cadoc hoped that the smith would be as easygoing as he when it came to their first lesson in  _wielding_  weapons later tonight.

"Well don't just go starin' off inta nothin'," the smith growled. "The longer you wait, the cooler that metal's gettin'. Hit the fucker like you mean it!"

With an annoyed huff, Cadoc struck the metal more forcefully. Though Takhbork did not praise him, the goblin's silence made him feel more confident. This was his first go at forging a sword, and while Cadoc hardly expected it to be anything but a disaster, he did plan to learn a thing or two in the process. One of those things was a bold hand. It had taken two days to create the billet of layered iron that Cadoc would use to create this weapon; a painstaking process. Now that he was hammering, he felt a subconscious desire not to foul up that hard work with his ineptitude. It was something he needed to get past if he was going to be a decent smith.

He worked for a few more minutes before heating the blade again and continuing to bang out something that resembled a sword-like shape. Right now, he was very sure that this would be the lumpiest sword in existence.

His first day of real training – of doing more than minding bellows and grinding edges – had been a lengthy and complex explanation of the importance of temperature and heating, in creating purer iron from the imperfect metal that was found in the tribe's mountain and mixing in charcoal to produce different hardnesses which would create a blade that was both flexible enough to absorb shock and hard enough to hold an edge; an even more difficult task with iron than with steel. While good quality steel was traded for Grazad's medicines, Takhbork did not want Cadoc working with that first.

Why Takhbork had decided to thrust him immediately into sword making baffled Cadoc initially, until the goblin explained that the techniques used to create a sword – judging its hotness, welding different hardnesses of metals, tempering the blade – would employ nearly every technique that Cadoc required. Their clan did not have the raw materials to make steel, so that skill was not something Cadoc needed to learn. His training would encompass producing an end product, and Takhbork felt that, if the ranger could create a half decent sword, then he could handle the other intricacies of smithing with little trouble. Casting and cutting and grinding was not nearly so complicated.

He thrust the iron into the hot coals again, and did his best to judge the redness of the metal. There seemed to be a learned nuance to this that would take time to master, because, as he began to draw it back out again, Takhbork immediately ordered him to keep it where it was.

" _Watch it_ ," the goblin smith hissed. "You want it  _glowing_  or you'll bust the damn thing with your next strike." Cadoc felt the sword was already glowing, but he kept the lumpy blade in the fire for several more minutes, until Takhbork instructed him to pull it out again.

This went on for hours; well into the night and past the mid evening meal. Takhbork would mind the bellows and, while he wasn't worrying over the fire, he would pace around Cadoc with a critical eye, shouting out corrections. As his arm began to feel more and more numb with every strike of the hammer, Cadoc could sense the smith's careful patience slipping.

"'At's enough," Takhbork snapped. "We'll pick it up in a day're two."

Feeling a little disappointed in himself, Cadoc set the malformed blade on an empty anvil to cool. It was far too soon to go dunking it in water.

"I hope you do not regret becoming my teacher," he said to the goblin's back as Takhbork took a long drink from the forge pitcher.

The smith handed him the vessel and Cadoc took several, large gulps himself. "Your lucky we ain't in Lugbúrz," Takhbork grumbled. "Your back'd be a mess'a lashes. But I didn't expect ya ta be a bloody master swordsmith your second day in." He gave Cadoc a sharp look. "You gotta pay attention ta what you're doin', lad. Quit worryin' about where I'm at."

Cadoc was immediately contrite. "I apologize –"

" _Don't apologize_!" Takhbork hissed. "Just pay attention when you pick it up again, yea?"

"I will."

"I ain't tryin' ta be a prick," Takhbork sighed. "I want ya ta learn, an' the best way ta learn is ta  _do_. I could show you how it's done, but you ain't gonna pick it up near as fast by watchin'."

"I, actually, quite agree with that method," Cadoc admitted.

Clasping Cadoc's arm companionably, Takhbork softened his expression. "I can see you're frustrated. Just keep at it an' you'll get the hang of it afore you know it. It's all practice. Now," he added with a lopsided grin, "let's get somethin' ta eat. Then I'll have  _my_  lesson an' you can yell at me fer bein' such a shitty warrior."

"I do not intend to yell at you," Cadoc told him.

The goblin laughed. "Com'on then, you. Fair's fair."

* * *

The humidity was so thick, Rukhash thought she was swimming instead of walking. Though the moon was high overhead, the night had not brought much drop in temperature. Grazad seemed slower than usual tonight. Rukhash wanted to believe that explained the old healer's dispassionate response to the shortcomings of her youngest apprentice, and not because this was the way she had been training Bhrafmor for the past two years.

This was the first night Rukhash had been with the two of them together. Their lesson in various uses for local molds was presented in Grazad's usual, clipped style. Rukhash repeated the information imparted to her easily, but Bhrafmor could barely remember the  _names_  of half the fungi Grazad had shown them, never mind their uses. Instead of drilling that information into her head with threats and a fews, sharp cuffs, Grazad sighed and reiterated what she said with far less enthusiasm. Bhrafmor nodded throughout the second lecture, her brow furrowed, but Rukhash could tell she was not retaining the information.

"What does  _akûlkaar_  do?" Rukhash asked her as Grazad started to lead them to where they would collect  _sharogil_.

Bhrafmor blinked at the question, glanced at the back of Grazad's head, and then at Rukhash. "What?"

"What do it do?" Rukhash repeated.

"It's fer…" she trailed off, her face scrunched. Grazad had gone through a number of different molds that all did different things, some to far more ill effect than others. "Is 'at the one fer wet coughs?"

" _Nar_ ," Rukhash huffed. Grazad's ear was tilted back, listening. "Don't you remember what it smelled like?  _Think_."

"Sorta sour?"

"That were  _akrakul_!" Rukhash hissed.

"Sorta bitter?"

"Are you fucking  _guessing_?"

Bhrafmor bared her teeth. "I don't need no shit from some bitch what stinks like  _man_. You ain't my teacher."

Rukhash cuffed her ear. Not hard, she could have put a lot more muscle into that strike than she did, but hard enough to get the snot's attention. Bhrafmor glared indignantly, holding her offended ear. "Oi!" she hissed. "You ain't supposed ta hit me."

" _Grazad_  ain't supposed ta hit you," Rukhash clarified. "No one told me not ta do shit. If you'd quit worryin' over some little cuff an' use what little brains you got, you might actually learn somethin'. You gonna go runnin' behind yer mum when you feed one a the lads  _poison_?"

"Poison?"

"Yea, poison," Rukhash sneered. " _Akûlkaar_ is the  _poison_  Grazad showed us. The quick one that causes seizures. You wanna screw somethin' like that up?"

" _Nar_."

"Then remember what it  _smelled_  like!"

Taken aback, Bhrafmor stopped mid step, her eyes wide and worried as she searched her memory. "Earthy," she said at last. "But it stung the back'a my throat."

"There, now. That weren't so hard," Rukhash said, calmer. Maybe Bhrafmor had more than half a brain after all. She just needed some proper motivation. "What the hag's teachin' you is important, you know," Rukhash told her. "The whole tribe's gonna be dependin' on you one day, ta see ta thier hurts. 'N more'n that, you're gonna help bring in a lot of trade fer 'em. But this shit ain't  _easy_. Especially since yer learnin' from a wise old fuck like Grazad. If it  _were_  easy, any cunt could do it, an' then there wouldn't be no trade comin' in at all."

Grazad raised a brow at Rukhash. "Wise old fuck?"

"Only when you ain't bein' an ornery old cunt," Rukhash said with a smirk. Grazad rasped out a laugh and sauntered ahead.

Bhrafmor seemed somewhat uncomfortable with that brief exchange, hanging her head with a frown. "She likes you better'n me," the girl whispered.

Not wanting to fall too far behind, Rukhash got them walking again, but cast a sympathetic eye on the girl beside her. "We went through Lugbúrz together," she said. "You think she were nice ta me when I knew 'er? Half the scars on my back come from her, but what I learned from 'er made me an important part of the clan I settled in with after."

"Why ain't you with 'em now? They kick you out 'cause'a that man?"

Rukhash frowned. "They was dead fer years afore I met Cadoc," she said, her voice going quiet with sad memory. "It's satisfyin' work, you know, bein' a healer," she said, changing the subject. "I like it loads better'n the forge work I did with my dad as a mite, even though I liked spendin' time with 'im. Forges stink. I'm glad I weren't in one long enough ta burn out my nose."

"What happened to 'em?"

"My dad?"

"No," Bhrafmor huffed. "Yer clan."

"Orc hunters found us," Rukhash said, a dark mood setting in. "I was out fetchin' plants when they come. By the time I got back, everyone were slaughtered." She swallowed roughly. "Even my kids and my  _shaûk_."

Grazad paused to look behind her. Obviously, she was not so far off that she couldn't hear their conversation. "Orc hunters?" she asked, a confused look on her face.

"Yer fucking kidding me," Rukhash glared. "You ain't never heard a no orc hunters? They was all over the fucking place up north."

"Lads out on raids mentioned soldiers buggerin' 'em or…" Grazad looked a little uncomfortable, "...or rangers, but they ain't never said nothin' 'bout no 'orc hunters'. Always figured most  _tark_  warriors were orc hunters sorta by default."

"Well some fuckers made a bleedin' career outta it," Rukhash growled. "We weren't doin' nothin' either, my clan. No raids're nothin. They just swarmed us fer no bleedin' reason. They could'a left us alone, and we wouldn'tve bothered no one." She felt an old indignance rise up. "Me'n Cadoc had ta run from a group of 'em too. Kept callin' 'im a traitor fer bein' with me."

Bhrafmor frowned. "A traitor to what?"

"Who fuckin' knows!" Rukhash growled. "You'd think all  _tarks_  were fuckin' assholes by the way that sort acts." A thoughtful look came over her. "But I can't say 'at's so. Cadoc's kin were real nice ta me when I was with 'em this winter, even if they was a little uppity 'bout him stayin' with me permanent. But I can't fault 'em too much fer that. Figure his mum'n sis were gonna miss 'im."

"Wait," Grazad said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You was hangin' around with men  _all winter_?"

"Why didn't you stay with  _them_?" Bhrafmor huffed.

"It's a long story," Rukhash said, wishing she hadn't mentioned it.

"We got time," Grazad said slyly. "There's a ways ta go til we get to the thick of where the  _sharogil_  grows."

Laying a hand on her belly, Rukhash sighed. Grazad had been bugging her for this story for a while, so she might as well tell it. With a few omissions, of course. "It was like, I dunno, I were alone fer a long time, you know, after I lost my clan. Years an' years." Rukhash gave the old healer walking beside her a beseeching look, and Grazad nodded for her to continue. "When I found Cadoc all banged up, I thought I'd take him back ta my place fer some company. He were done up good, so it weren't like I had ta worry about him takin' a swipe at me're nothin'."

"He was such a prick when he finally woke up," Rukhash said with a small smile. "I near killed 'im twice over, but I were hard up fer  _anyone_  ta talk to, so I let a lot of shit slide. Then… well, I ain't sure when it happened, but he turned out ta be a pretty decent bloke when he weren't bein' an ass. He made me this promise… said he'd see me back to Mordor safe since I helped patch him up."

"Then his shield brother found us, and insisted he go back to his kin. Cadoc convinced me – an' I still ain't sure how he done it – ta follow 'im so's I'd know where ta meet up with him in spring. So then I meet, like, his whole fuckin' family: his sis and mum an' brother-in-law and niece and nephews."

"But I didn't plan on stayin' the winter at first. I went back ta my cave after meetin' 'em, 'cause I figured, once the rest of his village found out about me, it'd be my head. But, it were awful, bein' alone again, so I went back with this troll shit story that wolves 'et all my food, an' they never questioned it. They was like, the most gullible lot ever. Took me right in, no questions asked. Treated me like one'a their own. I were real appreciative of it, at the time, but I yelled at Edda good fer that later."

"Who?" Grazad interrupted.

"Cadoc's sis," Rukhash explained. "I didn't want her takin' in strange orcs once I left. You never know who might be a backstabber. She were lucky I weren't that sort."

Grazad nodded sagely. "It's good advice."

"Did other folk find out you was there?" Bhrafmor asked, looking fascinated.

"I'm gettin' ta that!" Rukhash huffed. "They did, and they did just what I'd figured they'd do: chained me up and brought me in fer questioning. Except, the magistrate – er… the bloke in charge there – did the queerest fuckin' thing when I called 'im on it. Went an' let me go. I told 'im what happened ta my kin, an' he passed some law in the village what said no one could kill me 'nless I started shit with them. An' it were fine fer a long while... I learned a lot about men that winter. They can be real reasonable sometimes." Rukhash decided to let the issue of Baladnor and her brief imprisonment pass. She didn't think Grazad or Bhrafmor would understand her reasons for forgiving him. Rukhash barely understood them herself.

" _So_ ," Bhrafmor said, "Why didn't you  _stay_?"

"Wish I weren't here, do ya?"

"I didn't say that!"

"I didn't stay cause I never planned on stayin'. Me'n Cadoc were foolin' around, but I planned on leavin' him once he made good on his promise, and he didn't plan on stayin' with me neither. I would'a never fit in his village. His sis was real nice ta me, an' I pitched in 'round the house, but I couldn't be a healer there. Even if Auron would'a been keen on lettin' me help him, there were still folks loads too leery of me for that ta work. An' I wanted ta be back with my own folk again. So, Cadoc was gonna see me home an' that would'a been that. We was havin' a fine time messin' around, but we both knew nothin' could come of it."

"What changed yer mind?" Grazad asked.

"I were already feelin' sorta soft on 'im," she admitted, "but it were orc hunters what finally done it. They come one day, not carin' bout what law was passed, an' gutted me." She pressed her hand to the scar just below her diaphragm. "Worked Cadoc over real good too. The magistrate an' a bunch'a lads run 'em off 'fore they could finish the job, but I was out fer a week, near dead. When I woke up, there was Cadoc, lookin' like he ain't slept in a year. He'd stayed with me the whole time while I was in my sickbed. I asked 'im right there, ta be  _shaûk_." Rukhash laughed. "He looked ready ta bolt. He had ta think on it fer a while. I were pissed at the time, but it were the smart thing fer him ta do. He was leavin' behind his folk an' his work… an' he liked bein' a ranger, helping people... It's a lot 'at I was askin' of 'im, but he decided he were keen on it anyhow. Afore we left his village, we made that promise to each other. It's been him an' me ever since, chased the whole fucking way."

"By orc hunters?" Bhrafmor asked.

"By orc hunters," Rukhash confirmed. "I were probably the only orc left in Gondor, from what I saw passin' through, so it's no wonder they was bored enough to keep at it." Mentioning Thraangzi seemed like the worst idea, so Rukhash spared Grazad and Bhrafmor that sordid tale.

"Well," Grazad said, "that's a story, that is! And here we are…"

She hadn't really been paying attention while she recounted her meeting of Cadoc. Now Rukhash blinked at the sight before her. All around them, grew great, lush stalks of  _sharogil_. It was like a small forest within a forest. There were young plants, newly sprouting, and great, old plants, taller than Rukhash. She had never seen  _sharogil_  so tall! The plant of her mountain only grew to her waist before the cold killed it for the winter. The larger plants had deep purple clusters of buds sprouting from their centers. As Rukhash approached a larger plant to have a better look at one, she noticed bright red dots at the tip of each bud.

"We'll have some a them buds too," Grazad said. "They does the same work as the shoots, but they're loads more potent."

"They're  _pretty_ ," Rukhash purred, running a claw along a cluster.

Grazad snorted. "I guess."

The three orcesses worked quietly through the mass of  _sharogil_. This seemed a task Bhrafmor was familiar with, and Rukhash was relieved to see that she was pruning each plant carefully, just as Grazad had instructed Rukhash to do all those years ago in Lugbúrz.

"I ain't never seen this stuff so big," Rukhash commented as she worked her way alongside Grazad.

"They was young'n small when you was in Lugbúrz with me, but there were some large, old'ns closer to their lordship's tower. I weren't mean enough ta send ya down there, though."

"Thank bloody hell fer that," Rukhash huffed.

Grazad patted her shoulder. "Years gone, my girl, but I can't say I miss 'em neither."

Rukhash wondered what Grazad would think if she told the old woman she had met the warrior who slew the Witch King. It was probably better not to mention. That might bring up a whole mess of questions that Rukhash didn't want to answer. "So," she said conversationally, "who's this big tribe we're collectin' this fer?"

"The Glokong Tribe," Grazad informed her. "They's from north'a here. Trade good steel and loads a meat an' cloth fer it. They got a decent healer, from what I gather, but they ain't got some'a the plants we do; not enough fer the lot of 'em, so they trade fer raw materials."

"Sounds like an easy order," Rukhash said, eyeing Bhrafmor in the distance.

"It is," Grazad agreed. "All you need ta know is what ta gather, an' how ta store it. We'll make soft bricks outta this stuff, but later in the season, we'll dry the fresh. There's a few other plants they need asides this. Terrain there's not as damp as it is here, an' this shit won't grow like it does here up there."

Rukhash felt the mushy earth squish between her toes. She had stopped wearing her boots days ago, because the mud would seep in the holes and slosh around her heels. Here, in the deeper eaves of the forest, the soil was loose and wet, even though they were still miles from the nearest river. There were a few spots where the soil was so loose, that it would suck you down if you stepped in it. Grazad had shown Rukhash the signs of that, and they were easy enough to spot. She warned Cadoc, in his lonely treks, to stick to areas with tree roots or rocks plants growing, and away from long stretches of bare land.

"They must be a big tribe, ta need so much," Rukhash said, her tone idle.

"A big tribe or a troublesome one," Grazad mumbled. "Can't say I know any of 'em that well. Their chief ain't keen on me since he lost his  _shaûk_  an' daughter in the breeding pits years ago –like it were my bloody fault 'at how things were bein' done – so we keep away from each other. They do the same as that last tribe done: leave their trade at the front door, Dufkarn inspects it, then they take their plants. We don't ask where all that cloth and livestock comes from."

"They're raidin'?" Rukhash asked, a worried tone creeping into her voice.

"Ain't far from the plains where them  _shara_  folk's settled," Grazad said with a pointed look. "Their trade keeps us through the winter, so I don't think Dufkarn would turn it down no matter where it come from. Wouldn't surprise me if they were, though. Especially considerin' all the healin' medicine they need, but like I said…"

"It ain't our business," Rukhash finished for her. "Just don't tell Cadoc, yea. That shit'd probably make him uncomfortable."

Grazad patted her shoulder lightly. "I won't offer any information I ain't asked fer," she said. "Ain't none'a  _his_  business neither, is it?"

"Not a bit."

Their conversation was cut short by Bhrafmor's high-pitched shriek. Jumping to her feet, Rukhash pulled her knife from her boot and ran like a shot in the direction of her wailing. She kept going on and on, so she wasn't hard to find.

Rukhash broke through the tall stalks and came upon Bhrafmor huddled next to a tree, shielding her face from the shaggy, confused beast standing a few meters away. Rukhash nearly burst out laughing. The way that child was screaming, she thought the girl had been set on by wolves or a bear or those dangerous sounding giant otters Grazad called  _glokfûsh_. Instead, Bhrafmor was being "accosted" by the most orc friendly animal in existence.

Rukhash dropped her knife and spread her arms wide. " _My Cudgel!_ "

The horse's ears perked and she pranced towards Rukhash. The orcess threw her arms around the mare's neck, hugging her close. "Oh, my Cudgel! You come an' found me, yea?"

Grazad finally caught up with them, and Bhrafmor slinked behind the smaller, older orcess. "The fuck is that  _thing_?" the girl hissed.

"It's a horse," Grazad said dryly. "Oi, Rukhash, why the fuck're you huggin' a bloody horse?"

"This ain't  _any bloody horse_ ," Rukhash barked indignantly, and kissed the mare's greying cheek. "This here's my Cudgel: the smartest bloody horse there ever was! I turned 'er loose weeks ago so me'n Cadoc could make a run fer it, an' here she is, come ta find her Rukhash."

"So…" Grazad looked skeptical, "this is  _your_  horse?"

Rukhash glared. "She don't belong ta no one! Cudgel's her own horse!"

"Uh huh…"

"We're pals,' Rukhash said, nuzzling the mare's neck. "Ain't we, my girl?" Cudgel nickered and rubbed her nose along the orcess's hip.

"Uh  _hn_ …" Grazad grunted, raising a brow. "Well, if you two're done feelin' each other up, we got work ta do." Shrugging, the old healer headed back to where she had dropped her collecting basket.

Bhrafmor gave Cudgel a curious look. "Is she friendly? Mum always said horses weren't friendly. She tells these awful stories…"

" _Skai_ ," Rukhash hissed. "Most horses are right arseholes, but this horse is the best horse. Come on over an' you'll see." Tentatively, Bhrafmor approached. "Let 'er give you a smell," Rukhash instructed. "It's only polite."

Holding her hand up, the girl allowed Cudgel to sniff her palm. Bhrafmor giggled. "Her whiskers tickle."

"She's an old girl, this one." Turning to Cudgel she said, "She ain't got no oats fer you, Cudgel. Ain't that sorta thing around here."

The mare lowered her head, allowing Bhrafmor to stroke her long nose. Rukhash smiled at the girl's enchanted expression. "She  _is_  nice," Bhrafmor confirmed.

" _Was I talkin' to my fucking self?_ " Grazad hollered from a ways off. "We got work ta do, you lazy cunts!"

Glancing at Bhrafmor, Rukhash rolled her eyes. "We better get goin' 'fore her heart pops."

The girl giggled again before giving the horse one last, affectionate pat. "Com'on then, Cudgel," Bhrafmor said as she headed in the direction of Grazad's raging. "We gotta keep up if we don't wanna get yelled at."

She disappeared into the foliage, and Rukhash quietly frowned. Bhrafmor would probably be a decent kid if she wasn't being squeezed down this path, pulled in one direction by her mum and another by Grazad, but maybe Rukhash could make a decent healer of her yet. Grazad seemed fed up with the situation she was forced into, and Rukhash didn't blame her for that, but for a moment, Rukhash saw Morwen in that girl, and it brightened her spirits. Maybe Bhrafmor wasn't a lost cause after all.

She cast a sidelong look at Cudgel. "I'm glad you come an' found me," she said.

The mare nickered.

* * *

"Yer killin' me with this, you know," Takhbork grumbled.

Cadoc shook his head. Why was this part of training so difficult for young warriors to grasp? "You are the one who wanted to start with the sword. If you want to focus on the bow, we could start shooting right now."

"I'm teachin  _you_  how ta make a sword, an' I want you ta teach  _me_  how ta use one. Tit fer tat." Takhbork rolled his shoulders. "How long I been at this anyway?"

"Barely ten minutes," Cadoc told him.

"An' how long you want me ta stand still?"

"At least thirty."

"Fuck."

The stance Takhbork was holding was a slightly modified one from what Cadoc had taught Rukhash. Orcs of goblin breeds had very different body types from men. Cadoc had Takhbork stand erect, with his feet planted firmly apart, but the goblin's back was not completely straight. His spine held a natural curve that, when on his hind legs, made it look as though he were slouching; and his knees were far more bent, forcing his feet further apart than if a man was taking the ready position. But the nature of this stance was solidity. Having Takhbork stand in the "proper form" would probably make the poor goblin fall over. Cadoc found himself improvising to provide Takhbork something comparable to what he would have taught a young ranger, and felt somewhat proud of his solution.

The point of this exercise, however, was patience. Takhbork wasn't the first amateur that Cadoc had trained, nor was he the first to complain about this exercise, but he  _was_  the first to fidget throughout like a nervous hen. "You need to stand  _still_ , Takhbork."

Throwing down the wooden sword Cadoc had fashioned for their practice, the goblin glared at him. Cadoc shook his head ruefully. "Now we will need to start all over."

"This is the stupidest shit I ever heard'a!" he growled and picked up the wood sword. He shook it at Cadoc. "This ain't even a  _real sword_."

"I will let you use a  _real sword_  when you have mastered what I will teach you with your practice weapon," Cadoc said, his voice growing stern. "I have made one for myself so we can spar, and believe me, you will not want us to be using real swords during those exercises."

"When can we spar?"

Cadoc frowned at him. "You can not even  _hold still_  for more than ten minutes. You are a long way off from sparring. The point of this is to teach you patience. If you go running into battle with a rage clouded head, you will  _lose_  that head in minutes."

Takhbork glanced at the wooden sword in his hand and sighed.

"Takhbork," Cadoc said, his tone softening, "why are you so interested in swordsmanship? I would think the bow would be far more useful to a hunter."

"It's both I wanna learn," the goblin said. "So them warrior lads quit looking down their fat noses at me."

"Why would they look down on you?" Cadoc asked, confused. "You and Fiilmor are skilled craftman. What you do is just as important to the tribe as what  _they_  do. They would have no swords or arrows to  _wield_  if it weren't for you."

Takhbork sneered. "That's fine then, innit? I'll just be their bleedin'  _snaga_ , fixin' up their weapons."

"Is that really how you see things?"

It's how  _they_  see things!"

Cadoc hadn't really thought about the fact that Takhbork and Fiilmor seemed to have very little contact with the warrior orcs in the tribe. Ashplak hung around Takhbork enough, but that old orc seemed to hang around _everyone_. Hurug was one of the miners, and he, too, usually stuck with other males that were in the mine with him, or with Takhbork who forged the iron he dug out of the mountain. He always assumed these groupings had to do with friendships. Now, he wondered if they had more to do with status.

"Well," Cadoc said, feeling indignant on Takhbork's behalf, "then, they are fools. You are not much of a warrior if all you wield is air."

A small smile curled Takhbork's mouth. "Let me have at this again," he said, holding up the practice sword. "Thirty minutes, you said?"

"Thirty minutes," Cadoc confirmed. "Do you want me to stand with you? I could use the practice, myself."

"Wouldn't mind the company," the goblin admitted with a lopsided grin. "It'll make me feel less silly."

Cadoc stood alongside his friend for a good dozen minutes, watching the sky turn from black to dark blue. It would be light soon, and Cadoc would have to cut their lesson short. Perhaps tomorrow they could start with some simple defensive moves. That would probably brighten Takhbork's spirits.

The goblin suddenly hissed out a curse, and a second later, Cadoc realized why. The hunters had returned, and while most were ignoring them and filing into the cave that led to the den, Dufkarn and Ashplak had broken off of the main group to come investigate what they were doing. Cadoc frowned when he realized Gaidurb was hurrying after them.

" _Har_ ," Ashplak snorted. "This here's adorable. What're you two about?"

"We're practicing," Takhbork growled defensively.

"What, standing?"

The smith threw his weapon down. "No! swords."

With a raised brow, Dufkarn shuffled forward and lifted the wooden sword from the ground. He looked at Takhbork and then fixed his attention on Cadoc. "Yer learnin' him sword fightin' by standin' still?"

"It is to teach patience," Cadoc said.

"That right?" the chief said, thoughtful.

"Patience," Gaidurb sneered. "What a load a shit." He snatched the sword from Dufkarn's hand and pointed it at Cadoc. The chief gave him a dark look. "Leave it to that scrawny smith ta learn swords from a  _man_. Fake swords,  _skai_ , like at'll learn 'im nothin'."

"These are the same type of practice weapons I learned on," Cadoc said cooly.

"An' yer such a fine swordsman, I bet," Gaidurb hissed.

Cadoc was not one to brag, but he was very sure of his own skill, what it could and couldn't do for him in a situation. "I am, actually," the ranger replied, lifting his chin.

"Yea?" Gaidurb sneered. "Prove it."

He lunged at Cadoc, the wooden sword raised above his head. With a few, quick moves, Cadoc had flung Gaidurb's weapon out of his hand and onto the ground next to Dufkarn. The chief glanced from the sword to his dumbfounded hunter before exchanging a knowing look with the old soldier standing next to him. "'At weren't bad, I'd say."

" _Nar_ ," Ashplak agreed, his blue eye settling on Cadoc, "not bad at all. Yer quick, ranger."

Dufkarn noticed Cadoc looked far more uncomfortable with that moniker than when the others called him 'man'. Gaidurb, fuming, grabbed the wooden sword from the ground and turned sharply, as if he intended to make another go at Cadoc, but Dufkarn halted him with a hand to his shoulder before he had the poor sense to start a fight. "Go help skin them deer we brought in," he said.

Gaidurb glared and threw the sword down, stomping off in the direction of the cave. Dufkarn was relieved he hadn't pressed it. The last thing the chief needed was a brawl between those two. Considering how effortlessly Cadoc had disarmed him, Dufkarn was fairly sure it was a fight Gaidurb would lose. The chief picked the sword up off the ground and tossed it to Takhbork, who caught it easily. "I'd be interested ta see what 'e teaches ya," Dufkarn told the goblin. Takhborn nodded, looking uncomfortable to be singled out.

" _Oiiiii!_ " Rukhash's voice called from the canopy of the forest. The four males turned towards the treeline just in time to see her emerge from the darkness, leading, of all things, a horse bearing a pissed looking Grazad and a load of tied plants on its back. Bhrafmor loped along next to them, tickled.

"What the fuck am I lookin' at right now?" Dufkarn said, blinking in confusion. Ashplak and Takhbork shook their heads in unison, mouths gaping.

" _Oh_ ," Cadoc's tone was light. "Rukhash found Cudgel."

* * *

**Translations**

_Glokfûsh_  (Shadowlandian) "Slow Tooth". The name of a giant otter native to Nûrn wetlands and rivers. This creature is roughly based off of the prehistoric  _Enhydriodon_.

 _Sharogil_  (Mixed Shadowlandian Svarstika) The name of the healing plant that Rukhash used on Cadoc. This fern and it's buds speed healing significantly.


	56. Beasts of Burden

**Splint  
** **Chapter 56: Beasts of Burden**

* * *

Cudgel created quite a stir. The first thing the chief asked, after he closed his gaping jaw, was whether or not she was good for eating. Rukhash, indignant, insisted on the horse's usefulness. The mare had bore Grazad when the old healer's legs had grown too stiff to walk, and had been able to carry more plants back to the caverns than the three healers could have brought on their own. Bhrafmor was already taken with the horse, and Dufkarn warily agreed that the animal could stay in one of the shallow overhangs near the caverns, so long as she proved useful. "Old thing like that'll probably be too hard to chew anyhow," the chief had laughed. Cudgel snorted peevishly at that.

The first thing Rukhash tended was Cudgel's injuries. She did not have the time to remove the bridle or harness on the mare's back, and the leather had worn the poor beast's skin down over the past few weeks. Rukhash tended those wounds with salve and apology. "I were hopin' you'd find someone ta take ya in," she had explained to the mare as she spread medicine over the worn flesh on Cudgel's shoulder. The horse snuffed and butted against her hip. Rukhash had a feeling that Cudgel would forgive her.

The second thing Rukhash saw to was the curious orcs that crowded around the shallow cave Cudgel would now call home. The whole next day, Cadoc collected dried grass and heather to line the ground with, and took the mare to feed on fresh clover growing along the mountainside. By the time he returned, just as night was falling, Rukhash was ready with more salve and bandages. Around her, half the females and children of the tribe had gathered, shrewdly eyeing this strange creature they could not eat.

"Ain't seen a horse in years," one of the older females said, staring at the mare as Cadoc led her into the cave. Cudgel seemed a little unnerved by the attention of so many individuals, but went calmly to Rukhash so she could tend her.

Ranmor approached as Rukhash began changing bandages. The tribe's head female looked wary. "She's calmer than any horse I've ever seen," she admitted.

Patting the mare's head affectionately, Rukhash said, "She ain't some ornery ol' war horse. Me'n her've been on good terms since we met. Even rode 'er once."

An amazed murmur rose up from the crowd. "You rode her?" Ranmor asked, sounding awed.

"Well, sure," Rukhash huffed. "Had my ankle banged up good'n she bore me fine. Didn't jostle or nothin'. Not like that arse horse Cadoc threw me on." She gave her  _shaûk_  a dark look.

"You were being unnecessarily obstinate," Cadoc huffed.

Fiilmor glared at him. "You  _threw her_  on a horse?"

"She was in no shape to run!" he barked defensively. "And I did not  _throw her_  on anything."

"Strong armed me, you did."

"I picked you up."

"Tossed me over yer shoulder like a prize in a raid."

"I was exceptionally  _gentle_ ," Cadoc replied, glaring. "And if you had simply mounted up, _like I asked_ , I would not have had to force the issue."

Bhrafmor had started stroking Cudgel's nose and her mother had drawn up behind her, watching her daughter idly. "'At's a male's excuse, if I ever 'eard one," Ranmor rumbled flatly.

A murmur of growling agreement erupted among the orc women, and Cadoc reddened slightly. "Well," he said, sounding uneasy, "I suppose I should go start breakfast before the lot of you turn against me."

Rukhash grinned at him. "What'd you catch?"

With a pleased smile, he let the rucksack fall from his back and rifled through it. "I was afforded some time while Cudgel ate. She really does not require much tending." He produced a red, furry body from the pack.

Rukhash gasped, her eyes shining. "You caught me a fox?"

He lifted two more red beasts by the tail. Rukhash's eyes went round as saucers. "You caught me  _three_  foxes!"

"I snared a shrew as well," Cadoc said and frowned thoughtfully. "I have never tried to eat a fox," he admitted.

"Their fine eatin'," a younger female said idly. "A bit chewy. Need ta check 'em fer worms."

"Everything needs to be checked for worms this time of year," Cadoc said as he packed the foxes back into his pack. A rumble of concession went up at that statement.

"Grazad'll know what to do with 'em," Rukhash said as he rose.

"Then I will leave their preparation to her. I need to head up to the forge soon. Try not to work Cudgel too hard tonight. She should get some rest."

"I'll be helpin' Grazad and Bhrafmor make medicines," Rukhash said. "So she'll have all night."

Cadoc kissed his  _shaûk_  briefly on the lips. "Then, I will see you later." He ignored the amused twitter that rose up from the females as he passed. A dozen, curious heads swiveled to watch the ranger stride into the main tunnel that led to the dens.

Ranmor waited until Cadoc was well out of earshot before turning towards Rukhash. The young orcess had a dazed, adoring look on her face. "What's with that?"

Rukhash blinked at her. "What's with what?"

"The mouth thing."

"Oh!" Rukhash briefly touched her lips. "It's like, the mannish version'a nippin' chins. Last time I nipped Cadoc's chin I 'ad hair in my mouth. Kissin's easier."

"Kissin'?" Ranmor wrinkled her nose.

"It's what they call it."

"It's sorta weird," one of the females said with a raised brow.

"I dunno," Rukhash replied with a small smile. "I kinda like it."

"Seems better'n hair in the mouth," Bhrafmor said and went back to petting Cudgel. Most of the small children had gathered around her and were patting the old mare as well. Cudgel seemed pleased with the attention, bowing her head to oblige their shorter stature and nickering with quiet contentment.

Ranmor shook her head. "I ain't never seen a horse like this," she admitted.

"I thinks she  _is_  the only horse like this," Rukhash said. "Every other horse I come across seemed like it wanted ta trample me."

"Now  _that's_ what I remember," Ranmor huffed. "Bloody war horses tryin' fer yer head."

Rukhash glanced at Ranmor curiously. "I didn't know you was infantry."

The tribe's  _shatroklob_  smiled ruefully. "A scout an' tracker," she said straightening her spine to rise to her full height. " _Hoitataath_."

Taken aback, Rukhash nodded quietly and went back to tending Cudgel's hurts while the children sniffed around her. Many of the other females, content that the horse was no threat to their young, wandered back into the den while a handful remained outside to be sure no one wandered off. Ranmor went to sit with a small group just outside the cave and they struck up a conversation about idle things: the weather and local game and their own, rambunctious offspring.

Rukhash had no idea that Ranmor was a former soldier. The thought hadn't even entered her mind, but now that she did know, Ranmor's position in the tribe made much more sense. Most of the females here were breeders who barely escaped the tower's fall. They had followed Grazad out of Lugbúrz and back here to her home den. Ranmor must have come with Dufkarn and the other soldiers. It was no wonder the girls here were so awestruck with her. Even the females not in her favor showed her respectful deference.

"Why didn't you mention she were a soldier?" Rukhash hissed at Fiilmor.

She startled, and nearly dropped Gruk, who she was holding up so he could pet the horse's mane. "Didn't think it mattered," she said.

"Course it  _matters_ ," Rukhash growled. "Shit like 'at's good ta know."

Fiilmor shrugged. "If you say so. Ain't like she's  _still_  a soldier." The female smith glanced at the group outside before adding in a whisper, "She bloody ain't fought no one in years. 'Sides, a tracker ain't a captain. Not really a high position."

Rukhash grunted quietly and began to pack her things.

The low nature of Ranmor's former position was, actually,  _why_  Rukhash was so interested. Ranmor had very few lashes on her back, not like Rukhash herself, or Fiilmor and Takhbork, who were obvious snaga; riddled with lash scars. Even Grazad sported a number of old, winding marks, proof that she hadn't always been a pitmaster.

Many of the other females, because they were once breeders, were scarless. Breeders were rarely – if ever – beaten. Their progeny was too important to the war effort. The only marks on Rukhash's mother and breeding sisters were those they received from fights with other females to protect the status and size of their den. Orthanc had been so cramped that feuds between dens were remarkably common; clan pitted against clan to steal food rations and living space. Rukhash's mother had always insisted on family loyalty, and the fealty she instilled in her daughters made their den one of the strongest and largest.

Mordor was not like that. It was more like a beehive, with hundreds of thousands of females in their own little cubby for the duration of their breeding years. They did not rear their young, or instill in them that same clan loyalty. They bred and bore young and bred again; were afforded the most food and comfort of any orc in Mordor; and their lives were remarkably short because of it. The strain on their bodies reduced their lifespan to a minor fraction of what it could have been. Most breeders did not live past the age of thirty. Rukhash thought it was a miserable looking life, and had not anticipated joining their ranks. The lash seemed kinder.

As a soldier, and a soldier on one of the lower rungs, Ranmor's back should have been a mess of lash marks, as thick and numerous as Rukhash's or Fiilmor's or Takhbork's, but it was not. This meant one of two things: either Ranmor had a remarkably kind and gentle captain – which was possible but extremely unlikely – or she had served under an orc that had different means of subjugation. Among the soldiery, both in Mordor and Isengard, low ranking orcs were often reminded of their place, whether they did a good job or not, and beatings were the more benign way to emphasize status.

Ranmor's only offspring was Bhrafmor; who was a result of old orcish tradition where the chief and the den mother produced at least one child together as a means of good faith. All her liaisons, as far as Rukhash had observed, were with other females. She had always assumed Ranmor's proclivities, aside from possible personal preferences, had to do with a desire to ensure her status with the other girls. But now knowing what she knew, Rukhash was suddenly reminded of her sister Botarg.

Botarg had not been raped in the purest sense of the word. She had submitted herself when she bred because that was what she was expected to do, but she hated it. She hated the submission, she hated her duty and she hated the males that bred with her and would not seek male companionship of an intimate nature outside of what was required of her. She despised every aspect of her position, something that dumbfounded Rukhash's mother completely. Botarg had been a decent mother to her children, even her sons, but there was definitely a sense of resentment in her. More than resentment, was her personal anguish. Rukhash remembered being very small and laying next to her sister, stroking her long, straight hair as she wept bitterly after a breeding session. Botarg had been short tempered and easily riled; she had been quick to snap and even quicker with a cuff; but there had always been an odd bond between them. Their mother didn't coddle, and their sisters didn't understand her grief, but Rukhash, who had been young and only knew that her older sis was hurting, had comforted her when no one else would. Rukhash was very sure that kindness shown had saved her life on a few occasions when she was older and their relationship was more tumultuous.

Rukhash had always considered Botarg one of the strongest girls she knew, inside and out; even when they were at each other's throats. There were hurts that a female should not have to endure, and to know Ranmor might have gone through something similar, and most likely even more violent, stirred a sense of respect in Rukhash that she had not previously possessed for the tribe's head female. She had worked herself up from the bottom, had overcome obstacles that would have killed lesser girls. Rukhash was impressed.

Gathering her supplies, Rukhash left Fiilmor to tend the children swarming Cudgel. The horse seemed pleased, and if Rukhash didn't know better, she would swear the mare was preening as the little sprogs climbed all over her, giggling madly.

As she passed Ranmor sitting outside, surrounded by her daughter and several attentive girls, Rukhash paused and spared her a respectful nod. With a raised brow, Ranmor nodded back and Rukhash continued towards the den. Halting, Rukhash turned sharply towards Grazad's apprentice. "Oi, Bhrafmor," she clucked. "Quit lazin' off an' move yer skinny arse. We got work ta do."

Bhrafmor blinked, indignant, and looked to her mother. "You heard 'er," the older female rumbled, gesturing broadly towards Rukhash. "Git to it."

Bounding to her feet, Bhrafmor hurried to catch up with Rukhash.

* * *

The mid August sun bathed the forest in a heavy haze, the air so thick, it clung to the skin. Cadoc shielded his eye against the bright morning and, having lost his shade with the sun's movement, scooted so he was better shielded by a leafy oak. The difference in the temperature was almost immediate. He continued to sharpen the ends of a long pole. Three more wooden spears, rested beside him. They were four arm's lengths long, and made of hard pine wood. He had spent the better part of the early morning seeing to their completion. Two more, and he would be ready.

Rukhash was probably going to kill him for this.

A few days after he had caught her foxes, Cadoc had presented a pair of badgers to her, which brought Rukhash great delight. They ate them that morning and the skins were boiled and prepared along with the foxes. Only Grazad had cared much about that quarry. A week later, Cadoc rode Cudgel out to the deeper forest and shot down a black tailed deer.

The whole tribe had been interested in that, especially the chief. Larger game was considered property of the tribe, and only the hunters were allowed to hunt on tribal territory. Technically, because he was not considered tribe yet, Cadoc had poached it. Dufkarn had allowed Cadoc to take the skin and the liver for Rukhash, but the rest of the deer was to be meted out according to status, just as if it had been pulled in by the hunters. He had pulled Cadoc aside later, furious.

"I been lettin' it go," he had said, "all them little vermin you've brought in, but you pull some shit like this again, and I'll have one'a yer hands."

"I am not trying to steal from you," Cadoc told him, gesturing towards the carcass as it hung skinned and bleeding out into a basin in the butchering cavern. "Obviously, I am willing to share what I bring in. I am just trying to do my part."

"Showin' off, is what yer doin'," the chief growled. "What'd you scare off when you caught this?"

"I did not ruin your hunt tonight," Cadoc argued. "In fact, I came across the tracks of a large number of wild swine near the gnarled tree along the river. They were headed in an eastern direction, if you care to catch up with them."

"You think we need your help,  _ranger_."

Cadoc sighed. "I don't. But I  _do_  want to help. Just as you have afforded Rukhash the chance to use her skills, I would ask that you allow me to use  _mine_. I am happy to help Takhbork in the forge as much as he needs me; but, you can ask him yourself, my weeks under his tutelage have not produced much result. It will take me  _years_  to reach the skill of he and Fiilmor. I have been hunting and tracking and  _fighting_  all of my life. That is what I am good at. I have a daughter coming soon that I will have to provide for. I cannot wait until I am a skilled blacksmith."

Thoughtfully, Dufkarn regarded him. "They ain't goin' ta want you with them, you know. Most'a the hunters, they like yer girl arright, but you they don't trust."

A sad look flitted across Cadoc's face. "I cannot say I blame them," he admitted. "Do  _you_  find me untrustworthy, chief?"

Dufkarn blinked at that. This was the first time that Cadoc had used his title, but Dufkarn was the leader here, and if Cadoc was going to have a place with these people, Dufkarn would be  _his_  chief as well. He wanted to appeal to the orc in that context. And, as leaders went, Dufkarn was a decent one. He obviously cared about the people in his charge, even if he did adhere to codes of social status that Cadoc did not quite comprehend or, personally, agree with. Orcish ways were, simply, different than mannish ways. Chief Dufkarn may have had a tendency to play favorites, but that tendency did not extend to letting lower ranking orcs in the tribe starve or abusing individuals that were far below his station. In fact, if Cadoc were to take a general consensus, he imagined Dufkarn was a popular chief among his tribe. They did not always agree with his decisions – sparing Cadoc and Rukhash being one of those decisions – but they respected them as much as the inherent irreverence in orcs respected anything.

Thinking over Cadoc's words, Dufkarn amended his previous threat. "You bring in somethin' big like this again, and it'll be the same thing," the chief said. "You get the skin an' a small cut an' the rest I'll set out like I usually do. If you can swallow that, you can keep yer hands."

"I understand."

That evening, Dufkarn and the hunters caught up to the pack of wild pigs Cadoc had told the chief about, and there was a large, group feast that night in addition to setting aside a large portion for the coming winter months. During dinner, Ashplak patted him on the back; though a little dour on the prospect that he might lose his apprentice, Takhbork had been congratulatory as well; and Rukhash seemed especially proud of him. That is, until Grazad opened her mouth.

"So, when you catchin' the bear?"

Snorting, Ashplak turned to Cadoc, his face split in its usual, cocky grin. "What  _bear_?"

"Like he promised her," Grazad said, glancing at Rukhash. Cadoc thought she looked white as a sheet all of a sudden. "What you ask 'im for?" Grazad went on. "A fox, a badger with a white face an' black stripes, a black tailed deer…"

"Shaddup," Rukhash hissed, and glared at Cadoc. "Don't you dare go huntin' no bear by yerself."

"I didn't…"

"You'll fucking kill yerself, you stupid idiot, goin' after bear alone."

"I wasn't…"

"What're you having some pissin' contest with my dead  _shaûk_?"

She had practically screamed that. Several conversations around them stilled to utter silence as nearly a dozen heads turned in their direction. Several snickering murmurs rumbled through the cave and Cadoc felt his face go hot. Angry, Cadoc gripped her wrist. "Take a walk with me," he said tightly. Her mouth firmed. " _Please_ ," he added through his teeth, and she allowed him to lead her out of the main den and down one of the smaller tunnels, where they usually went when they wanted a moment for intimacy.

Glancing behind to make sure there were no curious eavesdroppers, Cadoc stopped them and took Rukhash by her naked shoulders. She was only wearing a skirt today. Her face was shadowed in the dark, but her eyes were visible enough. He could not tell if she was angry or contrite. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to calm his ire Cadoc was completely embarrassed. By now, word had spread of Rukhash's history. Orc tribes were more proficient than sewing circles when it came to idle gossip and here say, especially if that gossip and here say could be used in verbal gabs.

"I do not desire to compete with Anbagûrz in your heart," he told her gently but firmly. "I know he occupies a place there that is not for me, and I accept that."

" _You're_  my  _shaûk_ ," she said, her voice rough.

"And you are mine," Cadoc told her. "And I love you. I would do anything for you, do you know that?"

"I'd do anything for  _you_ ," she said.

"You have already done far more for me than I can ever hope to match," Cadoc told her. A little unease flickered in her eyes. "Rukhash, I will admit that I  _have_  been filling that list you made…"

"I were just  _joking_ ," she interrupted. "I were bein'  _cute_. Cadoc, you could get real hurt!"

"You know," he said, lightening his tone, "I am a bit insulted you have so little faith in me. Do you really think I would try to hunt a bear without a clever plan in place?"

A small growl rumbled in her throat. "The best plans fall apart," she grumbled. "Our sprog's nearly here, an' you want ta go an git yerself killed. You ain't got nothin' ta prove ta me."

"It is not  _you_  I am trying to prove myself to," he told her.

Blinking, Rukhash searched his face. "What'd you'n Dufkarn talk about afore?"

"We talked about me keeping my hands," he said. "And about the fact that the other hunters do not trust me."

"An' you think catchin' a bear will make 'em trust you?"

"It may help them  _accept_  me," he argued. "At the very least, it will impress them."

"Bleedin' eye, Cadoc–"

"You went out deer hunting because you thought it would make a good impression on Lord Faramir and the rangers with him, didn't you?" Rukhash nodded quietly. "Hunting while you were  _pregnant_ , I'll remind you."

" _Oi_ ," she growled, "I ain't made'a glass. An' I took Hedon with me. An' a  _deer_  ain't a bloody  _bear_!"

"All true," Cadoc admitted. "But you did put yourself in considerable danger to impress the prince. Can you at least  _understand_  why I want to do this?"

"I understand it's  _stupid_. You don't gotta prove yerself to no one!"

"Yes I do," Cadoc said, his voice stern. "I do, and you know it. I will never be accepted here if I don't. We will have to wait months, possibly years, before we are considered tribe. Tell me that I am wrong, that I do not comprehend orcish custom in this respect, and I will make no attempt at it. But first, I want to hear you say that bringing in an animal like that on my own will not make a positive impression on my presence here."

"You know," Rukhash wheedled, "plenty of the girls like you okay as it is…"

"But am I wrong?"

"...An' Takhbork is real keen on ya. Yer like, close pals if I ever seen em…"

"Rukhash."

"...An' don't think I ain't seen Gaidurb tryin' ta peek in on the trainin' sessions you've been havin' with Takhbork."

Cadoc gave her a silent, patient look.

"All the kids... really like… you…" She frowned and sighed, exasperated. "It'd impress bloody  _everyone_ ," she admitted. "The chief'd probably drop a litter'a kittens if you dragged home somethin' like that. But it's fuckin' troll shit; you shouldn't have ta impress  _anyone_."

"I agree!" said Cadoc. "But since it seems that I will be relegated to incompetent apprentice or in-home maid if I do not do  _something_ , I would prefer to  _do_   _something_."

"You could keep catchin' deer."

"Yes," Cadoc huffed. "I am sure everyone will be quite happy to eat all of our food."

"'At really bothers ya, don't it?"

"You told me once that you did not want to remain in my village because you would always be on the outside looking in, because you would have no place there. Rukhash, I can't live like that either, and I cannot wait _years_  until that is not the case. I am, actually, not nearly so patient. If something so minor–"

"It ain't  _minor_ ," she hissed.

"If _one act_  could turn that around," Cadoc amended, "then I am willing to do it. I am not seeking a high status. I am seeking  _any_  status. Bhrafmor is responding very well to your added instruction; Ranmor looks as though she has warmed to you; Grazad and Fiilmor  _adore_  you, everyone here respects you; and _you_ seem as though you would like to stay."

A thoughtful look crossed her features. "I  _would_  like to stay," she admitted. "They're a good group."

"I think so too," Cadoc said. "I admit that I have grown fond of some of the people here. Their customs are not my own, but I do think this would be a good place to raise our daughter." He laid his palm on her large belly. "I think she would find more acceptance with this tribe than she ever would with my own people." A melancholy gripped him, and he pressed on, "I want a place here, Rukhash. I cannot always be  _the ranger_."

"You  _are_  a ranger."

"I  _was_  a ranger," Cadoc corrected. "Now, I am your  _shaûk_ , and I will soon be a newborn girl's father. I will not wait around until someone decides that my efforts are worth something. I will  _show them_  that they are."

"Yer so fucking  _stubborn_ ," Rukhash hissed. "If yer gonna fuckin' go, at least take Takhbork with ya. You said he were gettin' better with the bow."

"He is quite capable with it…"

"Than take 'im with ya! Don't go alone. Promise me."

"I promise I will not go alone," Cadoc said, and she looked relieved. Struggling with himself, he added, "There is something I must ask of  _you_."

"What?"

"Please, do not do that again."

" _What_?" Rukhash frowned. "What'd I do?"

"Berate me in that manner in front of other people," he clarified. "It was very embarrassing to be compared to your deceased  _shaûk_  like that. I do not begrudge your past, or your right to speak of it, but I have already had to endure a few comments from other tribe members who asked me if I 'measured up.'" Cadoc took a deep breath, burying hurts. "I do not particularly care about the opinions of others, but I also would prefer if our arguments were not part of the public gossip mill here."

"Oh," Rukhash frowned. "I didn't think…" She pressed her hand to his cheek, stroking his beard with her thumb. "I'm sorry, Cadoc. I were just so flustered. I don't want you gettin' hurt. I didn't... you know I don't compare you two. Not ever. Yer completely different people, you an' Anba. I cared about him fer him, an' I care about you fer you. Yer my Cadoc, my  _shaûk._  Just 'cause I had one afore you, don't mean yer less a one because'a it. Don't never think that. Anyone sayin' nothin' 'bout 'measurin' up' is just some arsehole tryin' ta get ya riled."

Cadoc patted her hand. "I know you meant nothing by it," he said, smiling wanly. "And I do not want to get you upset. I would just prefer, if we are going to argue, that it stay between us."

"Yea, yea," Rukhash said, sounding contrite. "I didn't mean ta make ya feel like an arsehole."

He kissed her crown and they went back to the main den, his arm over her shoulder and hers around his waist. There were a few hissing snickers, and Ashplak asked them how the fight went. They brushed him off and went back to eating, sitting side by side.

The next animal Cadoc brought in had not been a bear. He caught one of the strange elk that lived in the forest, a creature with spiraling horns and red-striped flanks. As with the black-tailed deer, he was allowed to keep the skin and liver and a small cut off the flank and the rest was divided among the tribe. Rukhash had been unbearably relieved, but there was some grumbling among the hunters, especially Gaidurb. Apparently, he had been running bets as to whether Cadoc would be killed during his bear hunt. The odds were not in the ranger's favor.

But the timing had not been right. This time of year, many bears were still up in the higher elevations or out of the tribe's hunting range. Cadoc was able to travel further on Cudgel than on his own, so Rukhash had instructed him to keep an eye out for the scratched up trees that marked the territory's border. Cadoc would not encroach on another tribe's land; that would cause him far more trouble than Dufkarn's ire. Exercising necessary patience, he waited and watched the riverbanks, returning at night to assist Takhbork in the forge. His second weapon, a long knife, was coming along better than the sword had, but Cadoc was still determined to prove his worth in bear's blood.

Weeks passed, the summer wore on, Rukhash grew to impossible size. She continued to train Bhrafmor while Grazad – often pained by her joints – started delegating chores for them. Things settled into a comfortable routine. Occasionally, Cadoc would hunt something large, but for the most part, he kept setting traps. Then, two days ago, he had spotted bear tracks along the river. They were old, and he hadn't held up too much hope that the bear would stick around, but when new, fresher tracks showed up yesterday, Cadoc decided not to wait. He told Takhbork he would take the next night off, and he started collecting branches to cut into spears.

It was just before noon when he approached Cudgel's shallow cave. The orcs were calling it the horse den now, and in every way, it belonged to Cudgel. Rukhash had all of the mare's tack in here, along with an overlarge pail that was filled with fresh water every night and morning. Bhrafmor was helping Rukhash with the horse's upkeep. The pair of them would brush her and rub oil in her skin to keep the flies and fleas away, clear out the old bedding to make room for fresh, and Cudgel would do her part as well. She would leave the cave and walk into the forest to do her business, and spared the orcesses the messy task of cleaning her droppings. Cudgel roamed freely. Her den was not boarded up during the day, and if she wished, the mare could leave and never return. But every night, she was right where Cadoc had left her the day before, waiting for her usual attention.

He had never seen such a well loved horse. Over the past six weeks, she had endeared herself to the clan in a way Cadoc did not think possible. The younger children climbed all over her. Cudgel would take them on short trips – the little orclings piled high on her back – turning before she took them past the forest's edge to bring them back to their mothers. The females cooed at her, and referred to her as one of the girls. The males gave her a wider birth, but on more than one occasion, Cadoc had found Gaidurb up here, having a chat with her as he petted her nose, and the chief had praised her as a fine work horse, carrying in the various plants Grazad needed, or helping the gathering girls with their own load or assisting Cadoc or the hunters drag a carcass into the den. She already had the tribe's mark – two triangles inside one another – on her withers; the same mark that every orc in the tribe had cut into their chest, right above their heart. "It's so everyone else knows she's ours if she's out fer a stroll," Grazad had explained, the first night Dufkarn ordered it painted on.

Cadoc wondered if Cudgel had been accepted as tribe before him, and wasn't sure if he should be jealous or not.

Preferring not to be jealous of a horse, Cadoc strode up to her and stroked her muzzle. "I am going to have to ask you to help me with a dangerous task today, my friend," he told her quietly. "You may refuse if you wish, but I promised Rukhash I would not go alone." Takhbork's aim with a bow was quite good, and Cadoc would have trusted the goblin at his side, but Takhbork could barely see in strong daylight and Cadoc would not dare to hunt a bear at night. He needed someone with him that could see as well as he could in the sun.

Cudgel looked at him with gentle brown eyes that seemed far more intelligent than what a horse should posses. She snorted and bumped her head against his chest, and Cadoc knew she understood him. At this point, he was quite convinced that she understood every word of common spoken to her. "Thank you," he said.

He did not enjoy the discomfort of riding bareback, and he took Cudgel out often during his daytime jaunts, so Cadoc had constructed an almost-saddle for her: a blanket of fur-padded leather that buckled under her belly. He had mended her bridle and patted that as well, so it did not rub uncomfortably against her nose. Mounting her without stirrups was not so difficult – Cudgel was a short horse – but mounting her with five spears and two poles tied to one side, and rope fastened to the other, was a bit of a challenge. Cudgel obliged him by sidling up to a small rock so Cadoc could boost himself onto her back. Then, they were off, galloping through the woods easily. He barely had to steer her once he told her where they were going, holding her bridle merely out of habit. Cudgel knew all the paths, all the spots where the ground was loose and would suck her in, all of the easier slopes to climb. Cadoc imagined she did quite a bit of exploring while the tribe was asleep.

Once they had reached the river, Cadoc hopped off of Cudgel and began scouring the bank. The bear's tracks were a little further upriver. They confirmed that it was a loner, which meant it was most likely a male, and that he was quite large.

Cadoc had not lied to Rukhash when he told her he had a plan. After confirming the bear's wandering direction, Cadoc led Cudgel to a patch of quicksand that was not far from the river. This stretch of treacherous earth was fairly small, about the horse's length, and cadoc was sure it was not deep. He assured this guess by plunging one of the large poles into it's center. The length sunk to the halfway point before striking harder earth. Cadoc checked the patch in several spots and confirmed that the quicksand would only have risen to his collar bone; deep enough to slow something down, but not deep enough to lose it. He quickly went to work.

The two long poles were placed along the shorter width of the pool, and Cadoc balanced on the thicker of them as he set three of the spears in at an angle. He would have to make sure the bear approached  _just right_  for this to work, but Cadoc was fairly sure, if he worked the beast into enough of a state, he could accomplish that. The remaining spears he left on the far side. He would need those once the bear was stuck. Stringing his bow, Cadoc mounted Cudgel again and pointed her in the direction of the bear. As she trotted through the forest, Cadoc imparted his plan, feeling more confident as he said it aloud. The mare nickered occasionally as he spoke, understanding.

Cudgel felt the presence of the bear before Cadoc heard him. She snorted, but did not prance nervously. Instead, her pace slowed to a careful walk. Grunting as he scratched his back on the bark of a rough tree, the bear Cadoc had known only by his prints was risen to his full height. He would have been nearly Cudgel sized on all fours, but as it was he stood tall, and Cadoc quietly swore. He was much larger than the ranger had guessed, but Cadoc would not be swayed. His plan would still work.

Pausing mid scratch, the bear looked confused by this strange creature that approached him. Cadoc had rubbed both Cudgel and himself down with deer grease, so he imagined they much have smelled quite odd to him. Dropping to his forepaws, the bear bared his teeth in warning, and Cadoc drew and arrow from his quiver, threading it quickly. Anticipating the chase to come, Cudgel turned herself sideways, prepared for flight. The bear growled again, putting a hint of a snarl in for good measure and Cadoc loosed his arrow. It struck the bear in the neck.

Roaring, the bear was on his hind legs. "Hold!" Cadoc ordered Cudgel as she began to prance. He loosed another arrow and it struck the bear in the chest. Then, the beast charged and Cadoc barely had a chance to steady himself as Cudgel bolted through the forest.

The bear clamored after them, roaring in challenge and crushing the brush beneath his great weight, but Cudgel was nimbler and pulling ahead. "Not too fast!" Cadoc warned, tugging gently at her bridle. "He must think that he can catch us!" Cudgel slowed and Cadoc threaded another arrow, firing as they fled to keep the bear angry. It struck him in the shoulder, but did not slow his pace. He had three arrows sticking out of him now, buried halfway, their feathers bobbing as he thundered forward. So far, Cadoc's plan was working. The bear was enraged.

They reached the pool of quicksand and, instead of running alongside it as Cadoc had suggested, Cudgel made a beautiful leap directly over it. If he had time, the ranger would have praised her up and down, but as it was, the bear had already plunged headlong into the mire, and the spears must have caught him perfectly, because he let out a furious, pained bellow. Cadoc quickly dismounted and grabbed one of the wooden spears he had stashed in the brush and thrust it into the bear's neck with all of his strength. The beast roared again and, twisting himself unnaturally, was able to drag the upper part of his body free of the mud to take a swipe at Cadoc.

It was an unfocused blow, and did not catch Cadoc fully, but it was enough to throw him onto his back and force the air from his lungs in a matter of seconds. Cadoc felt his chest grow suddenly wet and decided it was just mud. Writhing, the bear managed to lurch from the quicksand to make a lunge for Cadoc.

The beast's head snapped to the side. Momentarily dazed, the bear shook his large skull and turned towards Cudgel prancing at his left. She reared up, striking again for his head, but he dodged her and snarled. Taking advantage of the distraction, Cadoc grabbed the second spear and, while the bear was roaring at Cudgel, attempting to pull his bottom half from the mire to reach her, Cadoc pushed the spear through his chest. With one, last, horrible bellow, the bear reared up and collapsed forward, directly onto Cadoc.

Breathing heavily, Cadoc stared up at the foliage above, the bear's great, shaggy head resting quietly against his cheek. Suddenly, Cudgel's large muzzle obscured his view. The mare nudged his temple and nibbled at his hair, turning the side of his head into one, great cowlick. Wriggling his arms free, Cadoc gently patted her cheek. "I am fine," he told her. "Thank you, Cudgel."

Gripping her bridle, Cadoc managed to struggle free of the bear's weight with her pulling as well. Standing, he found he was no worse for wear, a bit sore, but the claw marks across his chest were not too deep. He had packed a little salve and bandages, spiriting them into his pack when Rukhash wasn't looking, and he used that to salve and bind his wound. Cudgel had a few shallow scratches from the brush, so Cadoc salved her wounds as well. Then, he turned towards the dead bear, half sunk into the pool of quicksand.

What a beast. Cadoc did not even want to think how much he weighed. "Well!" the ranger said with a sigh as he patted Cudgel's withers. "Now we just need to get him home."

* * *

**Translation**

**hoitataath**  (lit.) 'hunt dog', tracking hounds, in (my 'verse) the orcish word for trackers in a military unit.


	57. Offering

**Splint  
Chapter 57: Offering**

* * *

The hunters lumbered from the yawning mouth of the main tunnel. Chief Dufkarn frowned as a wave of moist, warm air smacked him in the face. Even with the fires burning, the den stayed dry, so there was no knowing what it was like outside until it hit you. Dufkarn hoped the weather would break soon. Tracking was harder when it was damp, and they would have to travel further into the forest to find game. Most animals preferred the shady, deep wood when it was hot. Then, of course, there was the bugs. Dufkarn slapped his arm as a tiny mosquito alighted on his dark skin.

Nûtgroth filed out behind him, a bow and quiver slung carelessly over her shoulder. Dufkarn glanced briefly at his oldest daughter as she scowled. "We's gonna have ta hike all bleedin' night ta find 'at herd we spotted yesterday," she grumbled, mirroring his own thoughts.

"Little run never hurt no one," he said with a grin. She snorted, spat and tugged crassly at the strap of leather binding her breasts.

Wordlessly, Turgrat jogged past with Gaidurb, Surnra, Ashplak and Rakhnakh at his heels and headed into the forest. They were pointed towards the eastern border to make sure the neighbors were staying on their side. Chief Hrat had been testing the boundaries lately, and Dufkarn was not prepared to let that shit slide. Though experienced soldiers, the four lads sent out were not meant to be a battalion. Dufkarn had already given clear orders: if they came upon a foreign group, they were to fall back, gather more of the warriors, and then attack. Unlike Gaidurb and his hot head, Turgrat wasn't the type to idiotically rush into a desperate situation, which was why Dufkarn felt confident having his  _shaûk_ lead missions like this. Turgrat wasn't what one might call a proper second in command – he had never possessed the desire to lead a tribe – but he was a reliable captain, and had been so for Dufkarn for the past thirty years.

After the last clamour with their eastern neighbors two nights ago – a minor skirmish that had went decidedly in their favor and cost their neighboring tribe five warriors – the chief was fairly sure they would not have to worry about another incursion on their territory from Chief Hrat in the immediate future. Still, it was always better to be on the more cautious side. It was why Dufkarn kept at least four armed soldiers with the den every night. Tonight, that short straw was drawn by Hesha, Fruggut, Grashnar and Surnra's sister Zurnra, who was the meanest bitch with an axe Dufkarn had ever seen.

The rest of the hunters were with Dufkarn. He had Gaidurb's boy Ikhmok on his first, official night out; Muhrgra and his two girls Sapatuk and Shaaraguk, who were only a year in as hunters; Krakrum, Lurzug, Hashrat and Vurnhror, all skilled archers; Yakrun, Ratakat and Fortig, who were his fastest runners; and Nûtgroth, his own girl born several years before the Fall. In every way, Nûtgroth was her mother; from her narrow face to her lithe, strong frame to her irritable disposition. The only part of him Dufkarn could see was her eyes, which mimicked the pale green color of his own. There were times that she reminded him so strongly of Zahrgrun, that it almost seemed as though his old, archer friend was still alive. She had grumbled about being dragged along instead of lending her bow to Turgrat's cause, but Dufkarn liked her at his side, especially with Ikhmok learning the ropes. Despite her dour demeanor, she was surprisingly patient when it came to teaching.

"Horse's missin'," Muhrgra observed, shaking Dufkarn from his wandering thoughts. The hunters glanced towards the empty horse den.

"Ain't so odd," Krakrum said idly. "The ranger takes 'er out often enough. Probably decided ta catch 'imself somethin' big."

"Is 'e usually out this late?" Nûtgroth frowned, looking up at the full moon.

"Maybe we'll find 'im chewed up by a bear," Shapatuk laughed, her voice hissing and low. "Gaidurb'll be happy 'bout that."

Dufkarn inwardly groaned. He did not want to think about the fit Rukhash would throw if they brought home the gnawed-on remains of her  _shaûk_. She was doing good work with Bhrafmor, according to Grazad. The thought of  _three_  skilled healers attached to his tribe was a delicious prospect. They would be able to extend their trade to even more clans with three girls working at the potions. Dufkarn would have preferred not to lose Rukhash's attention to grief, especially now that the Glokong tribe was due for their pick up in a few weeks.

"Dunno 'bout that," Lurzug said and pointed towards the edge of the forest. "Look."

Trudging up the slope that led to the forest's edge was Cudgel with two, long poles attached to either side of her. Those poles held a makeshift litter of long, interlocking branches – practically whole sections of a tree – that had been hastily thatched together with rope. Behind that litter was the hunched form of the ranger with a length of rope over his shoulders. It was bound to what looked like a bloodied wooden spear that supported the base of the litter; and Cadoc was using it like an ox would a plow to help Cudgel pull. He stared down on the ground in front of him, his expression a mask of intense focus, as though he continued to move forward on sheer will alone.

On the litter was the biggest fucking bear Dufkarn had ever seen. The chief let out a quiet snort of amusement. Gaidurb was going to be  _pissed_.

The moon leached the color from him, making the ranger's tanned skin look whiter than bone. He was a mess, his whole upper torso dripping with so much sweat it had soaked through his shirt and leather vest. Across his chest was a bandage that was stained with watery blood. He was obviously exhausted, and so was the horse, their breath coming in great, laborious puffs. At the top of the hill, as he glanced up and caught sight of them, a relieved look passed over Cadoc's face. He fell to his knees, panting. The mare stopped pulling.

Dufkarn glanced at the hunters with him. They stared at the ranger as if he were some manner of apparition. "Well don't just stand 'ere like a pack'a gapin' fish," he growled at them. "Help the lad!"

Though practically ready to collapse after a long morning of hunting and a longer afternoon of dragging, Cadoc did not simply lay back and let the hunters tend his kill. After releasing Cudgel from her makeshift harness he helped them drag the bear inside, still on its litter. Three of the hunters stayed behind to help him skin and dress it: Muhrgra and his two, identical daughters; whose names Cadoc always managed to get backwards so he refrained from using them. They took the bear to the small cave off of the main den that was used for butchering, removed the skin and innards and strung it up for later that night. Chief Dufkarn had gregariously allowed Cadoc to keep whatever he wanted off of the beast. So, in addition to the skin and liver, he took the fat as well. Beargrease was a prized commodity among men for tending leathers and cooking and all manner of application, and he assumed it would be the same among orcs. He offered some of the flank to Muhrgra and his daughters for helping him, which they cheerfully accepted along with the brains and eyes, which they requested. Cadoc shuddered a bit at that and told them they were welcome to it. By Muhrgra's suggestion, he also took the heart and the claws and teeth. Cadoc frowned at that last recommendation.

"Yer girl'll know what ta do with 'em," the hunter said with a toothy grin.

The rest of the bear he left for the tribe, thinking it a good show of respect to the chief, who would have allowed him to keep the whole animal. But Cadoc had never eaten bear, and had no idea what he would do with so much meat, since the tribe had not a speck of salt to its name. Besides, if this was going to impress the group as a whole, it made sense that they should enjoy his labors as well.

It was a few hours before they were finished, and the pelt sat boiling in the massive cauldron they used for the larger skins. The skins from the three elk caught last night were in there and next to the bubbling pot were racks of skins and furs drying. One of Muhrgra's daughters – the one with a braid coiled atop her head like a waiting viper – told him to use one of the many, softened pigskins to wrap his prize in, so that's what Cadoc did. By the time he had seen to Cudgel's comfort and was walking back to Grazad's cave with his dripping parcel, the early evening had worn on well past midnight and news of his catch had filtered around the den. The pregnant females sitting with Ranmor – and Ranmor herself – ceased their conversation to watch him walk the span of the cave to the rear, where Grazad's den lay situated in a quiet corner. He heard awed whispers hiss among them. Of no accord of his own, his spine straightened a little, despite the fact that Rukhash had not searched him out at all; even though she must of known of his return, and he had been gone all day. A small part of Cadoc hoped she was out gathering plants, even though he knew she had planned to stay in tonight and help Grazad and Bhrafmor make medicines.

With a steadying breath, he ducked into Grazad's cave. Knowing it was him entering, Rukhash – who had her back to him – stiffened. Cadoc glanced at Grazad sitting opposite of her. The old healer raised a brow at him and made a face, but her craggy features made it hard to determine what she was trying to communicate. Bhrafmor's expression was no help to him either, though Cadoc did think she looked a bit apprehensive.

Crossing his legs and sitting behind Rukhash, Cadoc gently laid the large bundle of fat and organs next to her leg, leaving it wrapped; and placed the small pouch of teeth and claws beside it before sitting back and folding his hands in his lap, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She made no move to look at what he presented her with. To a certain extent, Cadoc had anticipated this reaction. He hoped she wouldn't make him sleep in the main den, like Fiilmor had done to Takhbork during  _their_  last argument.

"You stink like rotted deer fat," she growled. "Go clean yerself up."

Without protest, he moved to the corner where their packs were and rummaged through for clean clothes and a pot of soap. Cadoc cast a casual glance in her direction as he made to leave. She wasn't looking at him, her chin turned up haughtily as she stared in the opposite direction, at the wall behind Grazad's bed. Cadoc looked again to the old healer. She shrugged and went back to stripping the stalks in her lap. Her eyes darting uncomfortably, Bhrafmor bit her lip, and kept stirring the pot over the fire.

He made his way to the hot lake, and was relieved that no one was there tonight. Peeling off his ruined shirt and filthy trousers, Cadoc sank into the water with a quiet hiss through his teeth. Every ounce of him was sore and exhausted. He scrubbed himself vigorously, fighting sleep as much as he was determined to get himself clean. The scratches in his chest were very tender and oozed a little reddish, clear liquid. Cadoc left his shirt unbuttoned when he dressed again. His wound would probably need to be seen to before it became infected.

When he passed through the main den again, Bhrafmor was sitting by her mother with Grazad just beside her. Now that their relationship had moved from angry teacher, inept student to mentor and second apprentice, there seemed to be less strain between Grazad and Bhrafmor, and by extension, Grazad and Ranmor. Cadoc stopped briefly next to the old healer before continuing on.

"How much trouble am I in?" he asked, barely above a whisper, as he glanced across the cave to Grazad's den, where Rukhash had not moved.

"She knew what you was up ta when ya never came ta bed," she told him. "Don't think she slept all day. E'ry time I woke up, she were tossin'." Cadoc frowned at that. He hadn't meant to make her worry so. "Don't think she'll kill ya," Grazad went on, thoughtful. "She's right pissed, but she's glad you ain't dead. Were real relieved when she heard you come back."

Nodding, Cadoc thanked her and stood, making the long trek from where Ranmor and the breeding girls sat to Grazad's den, all one hundred feet of it. He sat behind Rukhash again, just as he did before, and waited for his  _shaûk_  to acknowledge him. He noticed the wrapping on the bear organs had been tossed open and the claws and teeth had been shaken out of their pouch and placed on top, but for long minutes, Rukhash said nothing to him. Over the past weeks, she had grown exceptionally large in the front, but from directly behind, Cadoc could barely tell she was pregnant.

They sat in silence for what seemed like forever, the fire crackling and casting dancing shadows on the cave wall. Then, Rukhash spoke, her voice rough, "If you ever do 'at again, I swear, I'm gonna bleedin' murder ya."

"We did discuss me hunting bear…"

She whirled on him, her eyes flashing. "You said you'd take Takhbork with ya!"

"I said I would not go alone," Cadoc corrected. "He cannot see in daylight and I would not hunt bear in darkness, so I took Cudgel with me."

"A fuckin'  _horse_  Cadoc!"

"I could not have done it without her," he explained. "And I am glad I brought her with me. She saved my life."

Frowning, Rukhash asked, "How?"

"She lived up to her name," Cadoc said, grinning slightly.

Swiveling on her rear, Rukhash turned to face him. She pushed the front of his shirt open a little wider and quietly appraised his injury. "This needs tending," she said absently. "Fetch me the salve an' bandages. I know you know where those are, since you snuck some away last night."

Cadoc fetched the salve and bandages and sat again. She worked quietly, her focus on his wound. "Lift yer arms," she said, after the salve was spread, and Cadoc laced his fingers on top of his head so she could wrap a bandage around his chest. When she was done, she lifted her eyes to his and, without warning, slapped him hard directly in the middle of the chest. Cadoc nearly jumped out of his skin as a stinging pain echoed over his breastbone.

"You wipe that smug smile off!" she hissed.

Cadoc schooled his face into a neutral expression. "I was unaware I was being 'smug'," he said sourly.

"'Course yer bein'  _smug_ ," she growled. The corners of her mouth turned up into a coy smirk. "Bear slayer."

He grinned at her. "So, you  _aren't_ angry?"

Her expression slipped into something more heated. "Fuck you, I'm fuckin' furious you fuckin' prick. I were worried about you all fuckin' day." She took a deep breath. "But I'm proud'a you, you stupid sod. I seen them teeth. He were a right big fucker."

"Larger than I thought," Cadoc admitted. "Muhrgra told me to keep those. He said you would know what to do with them. You can have a few of the claws for your  _vrasgirden_ , if you like. Or the teeth. I'm not sure what you would want with all of them, though."

"If Cudgel helped ya, 'en she deserves a tooth fer herself," Rukhash said thoughtfully. "I'll braid it in 'er bangs're somethin. Hair on 'er neck's too short fer that. Guess I could put it on the tuft at the base. That's nice'n long…" Rukhash shook herself to attention. "Don't mind keepin' a claw fer me, but you should wear the rest."

Cadoc blinked. "Should I?"

She smiled ruefully at him. "Yer a bit old fer this ta be yer first  _vrasgirden_ ," she said. "It's yer mum that should be makin' it fer you." She frowned at him, picking up on his melancholy look at the mention of his mother. "But I don't mind makin' it,  _shaûkizub_ ," she continued in a soft tone. "I do a nice job too, if I say so myself. Shapag had me redo hers when she seen how pretty I tie my knots."

"I would be honored if you made me one," Cadoc told her, and meant it.

"Where's the fur?"

"It is boiling with the other pelts in the carving cavern," Cadoc informed her. "It will probably be a few days until it is done."

"Keep an eye on that," Rukhash told him. "You leave it alone too long and it'll get swiped."

"I plan on it," Cadoc said. "I'm afraid there are a few holes. I could not avoid that."

Rukhash snickered. "I'll take care'a the patchin'. Gettin' that fat were smart. We can trade that fer all sorts'a shit once it's rendered."

"I would like to give some to Takhbork," Cadoc said. Rukhash gave him an odd look. "For giving me the night off," he explained. "I know he and Fiilmor had a long list to get through tonight, but I didn't want to give the bear another day to move on."

She nodded. "That's fair."

"Muhrgra told me to keep the heart also, though I'm not sure why. Is bear heart a delicacy? I know you like the liver. You are welcome to that as well."

A slow, cunning smile crept across her face. "It's tasty," she said in an odd tone, "An' it's supposed ta be real good fer breedin' girls, eatin' the heart'a anythin', but I ain't gonna eat it. I'll prepare it the proper way fer you, and you give that to the chief tonight when we're together fer supper. Don't say nothin'. Don't even interrupt 'im if he's talkin'. You just lay that by 'im and scurry off. He'll get what you mean by it."

Cadoc frowned. "And…  _what_  will I mean by it?"

"Presentin' the chief with the heart of a kill like this is a big show'a respect," she told him. "Especially if yer lookin' ta get into the tribe. It'll impress 'im. It'll impress 'im even more if ya do it in front of everyone, since 'at's submissive, and it'll seem like yer givin' it ta him instead'a me. It makes 'im look more important, and he'll like that." An intense, calculating look passed over her. "Trust me."

It sounded very manipulative to Cadoc, but Rukhash knew what drove her people better than he did. "Then," Cadoc sighed, "I will trust you."

She brushed the pads of her fingers along his jaw. "You crazy bastard," she breathed. "This was smart. This is gonna look real good on us. I'm guessin' Dufkarn let ya pull what ya wanted. You left the rest of the meat for the group?"

"I did."

"My clever Cadoc," she grinned. "And without me even tellin' you."

Taking her hand, Cadoc pressed her knuckles to his lips and couldn't keep the smile from his face. "I am glad you aren't angry with me," he said.

" _Nar_ ," Rukhash admitted. "Not near as pissed as I thought I'd be."

* * *

Feeling generally pleased with himself as he reclined on a wide step that allowed him to observe the entirety of the den as the group began to shuffle off after their large meal, ready for bed. Ignoring his  _shaûk_ 's light snoring, Dufkarn glanced briefly at the half eaten heart laying near his shin. The ranger had given him that earlier, while he was in the middle of a conversation with Turgrat and Ashplak about their mission. They had found no fresh tracks, but it seemed someone decided to piss all over their territorial markings.

"Their gonna start some shit soon," Turgrat said, sounding annoyed. Dufkarn felt annoyed as well. They had quelled that same group three years ago when they made a go at snatching territory. Chief Hrat was certainly determined to kill off all of his warriors...

Then, very subtly, and without saying a word, Cadoc laid a wrapped parcel near Dufkarn's leg before returning to Rukhash's side. He had done it so subtly, Dufkarn almost didn't know he had done it, and would have never known if Turgrat hadn't cleared his throat and directed Dufkarn's attention to the man's retreating back. Tossing aside the wrapping, Dufkarn glanced from the bear heart to the ranger across the cave. He caught Cadoc's eye, and the man gave a respectful nod before returning to his animated conversation with Takhbork.

His offering had not gone unnoticed by anyone else. Most of the breeding girls and Ranmor had raised an interested brow at that. By rights, this heart belonged to Rukhash. The chief's attention returned to the ranger and his  _shaûk_ as they sat, legs touching, on the far end of the den. The young healer certainly didn't seem too plussed that her mate had just offered her portion to him.

"That was real classy," Ashplak observed.

Dufkarn grunted. Classy indeed. Cadoc had curried a lot of favor among the breeding females, filling his  _shaûk_ 's little list. Those same females would see this favor and realize that Cadoc's hunt was done for the chief as well. They were all eating his bear tonight, which was a fine addition to the two deer bagged. It allowed them to dry and save the deer for the long, wet winter. But Dufkarn didn't know what to think of this little present. This was smart, calculated, and something he knew the man didn't think of himself. Cadoc was obviously too ignorant in the finer points of orcish custom to have figured this out on his own.

"They're good," Turgrat said, eyeing the pair as shrewdly as Dufkarn. He leaned in towards the chief. "What'ya think that's about,  _shaûkizub_?"

"He wants in," Dufkarn mumbled, still debating whether or not he would eat, and thereby accept, Cadoc's gift. "An' he wants in with the hunters. Still dunno what I think about it." He glanced at Ashplak. "What do you think,  _sharkû_? You spend a lot of time with him an' the smith."

Ashplak grinned a knowing grin. "Known you longer'n anyone here, little lad," Ashplak said. "An' I think you already made yer decision."

Quietly, thoughtfully, Dufkarn regarded the ranger again. He was engrossed in his conversation, barely paying attention now that his task was done, and the chief realized Ashplak was right, he  _had_  already made his decision. He had actually made that decision weeks ago, when Cadoc caught the black tailed deer and Dufkarn let him keep his hand. The chief's inherent suspiciousness had him looking for a plot at every turn, especially when it came to newcomers, but there was something horribly earnest about that ranger, almost childlike in its genuineness. Dufkarn had no idea why, but he trusted him at his word. And if this little stunt was Rukhash making a go at a power play, she was doing a shitty, obvious job of it.

Besides, the two of them were useful. Dufkarn could think of a million ways he could use a ranger's skills, nevermind the asset he would be if the  _tarks_  on the other side of the mountain got in in their heads to cross over. Who better to help them figure out  _tarkish_  strategy than a former  _tark_  soldier? From what he heard from Gaidurb, the ranger seemed like a decent teacher as well. Even the reluctant hunter had to admit that he had learned a thing or three from observing the smith's training sessions. And that queer looking horse of theirs was a fine asset as well. The girls loved her, and Dufkarn had received a good amount of general praise for not putting Cudgel on the menu.

Then there was Rukhash, who was making real headway training Bhrafmor, yet stepping back to allow Grazad to keep her position, when really, the younger healer could easily bowl the hag over and take her spot. But there was a real affection there, between Rukhash and Grazad. Something that went beyond social rungs. They were almost like grandmother and granddaughter. Though still in obvious, chronic pain, Dufkarn was fairly sure that he had never seen Grazad this happy in all the years that he knew her. Rukhash was also highly regarded by the breeding girls. So much so that Dufkarn was fairly sure, if she wanted, she could have the pack of them behind her with little effort. Yet, despite an obvious, rocky start between the two, she had been showing Ranmor more and more respect, even further strengthening the  _shatroklob_ 's position. In it's own way, that was making Dufkarn's life easier: not having to listen to the bitch rail at him every other night. Ranmor had been the closest to congenial he had ever known over the past month.

It was as if the pair of them were beginning to have a gentling effect on everyone. Most of the tribe had accepted them already, and Cadoc's only stumbling block for getting in at the moment – as far as Dufkarn's final decision went – was the suspicion of the hunters, all old soldiers that were wary of a man with his past. Dufkarn's biggest show of power was his control over the warriors, and he would do nothing if it struck them against the grain. He might be chief, but if they suddenly found fault in his decision making, he wouldn't be chief for long. It was why he had been treading so carefully around the subject of the ranger. If he was completely honest, Dufkarn liked Cadoc the day he walked up to him and asked why he wasn't getting a fair cut for his work. It took a lot of balls to do some crazy shit like that, especially since he and Rukhash weren't in nearly as safe a spot socially as they were now.

So, there was just the matter of getting the warriors to quite their griping, and watching Cadoc drag a bear and place its heart at Dufkarn's feet certainly went a long way towards that. It was a sneaky plan, but a benign one, and something Dufkarn didn't have to worry about; if Rukhash's only goal was to make her  _shaûk_  tribe.

Pulling his knife from its place in his boot, Dufkarn sliced off a piece of the heart and popped it in his mouth, pleased with it's preparation: charred crunchy on the outside and bloody in the middle. Just like old mum used to make.

He caught Rukhash's smile when she noticed the heart had been carved. Not a dark, clever look, but an expression of general pleasedness and relief. The look of someone that was happy things were going to work out. Realizing Dufkarn was watching her, she blushed and immediately went back to sewing the fox fur in her lap.  _You ain't near clever as you think you are,_  Dufkarn thought.  _But I'll let it slide this time._

"We'll keep 'im on a low rung," Dufkarn told Ashplak and Turgrat offhandedly, slicing off another piece. "See how 'e works out."

* * *

Cadoc spent the next two weeks doubling as a daytime scout. He still kept up his forge work with Takhbork and Fiilmor, but every few days, Dufkarn would order him to take Cudgel out to reconnoiter the eastern border. Orcish territories, Cadoc discovered, were made in steps. The tribe's main territory was the radius from the den that their fastest runners could run in one night, however, the tribal border extended even farther than that, overlapping the extended border of the eastern tribe. This was a debatable zone in terms of who owned what. Technically, if Dufkarn and his hunters brought down game in this area, it belonged to them, and if Chief Hrat's lads brought down an animal here, it belonged to them. In a way, the land belonged to neither tribe. Dufkarn's concern came from the fact that Hrat and his boys were pushing past this neutral territory into the tribe's main territory, and destroying their carefully placed border markers.

It was Cadoc's job to ride out into neutral territory and see if he could find any camps. Hrat's group was located a three nights' journey away, so any groups sent to infiltrate Dufkarn's land would be camping in neutral territory. This was a dangerous task for a number of reasons, chiefly because, if Cadoc stumbled upon an enemy camp and they were aware of him, he would be facing however many orcs alone, since daylight runs were not an orc's strength. And, while Cadoc would be afforded an advantage in terms of his ability to fight in sunlight, a good number would still overwhelm him.

It was also dangerous for reasons that had nothing to do with foreign orcs. The forest could be a treacherous place. In addition to quicksand and sinkholes, there were wolves, bears, monstrous otters that attacked from the rivers and wargs of a smaller Nûrn breed. The wargs had their own territories that sometimes overlapped with the orcs', and Dufkarn had no alliances with local packs at the moment. An alliance with wargs required an amount of food and tributes that the tribe was unwilling to spare, and, according to Grazad, ever since their many abuses during the war, most warg packs were content to keep to their own business. Which did not mean that they would not fell a man on his own if he came across them, and it just so happened a section of the eastern territory overlapped a warg pack territory.

So, Cadoc faced many dangers, and had a few close run-ins with wargish neighbors, though Cudgel had outrun them on both counts. He was spared having to shoot any of them and possibly involve the tribe in a skirmish with both the eastern wargs and the eastern tribe encroaching on their borders. That would certainly not have made Dufkarn very happy. Cadoc also had found very little evidence of the tribe of foreign orcs. He came across the remnants of a campfire, but it was over a week old and Dufkarn assumed it was used back when they had first noticed Hrat's boys on their land.

Cadoc was happy to be useful, but he retired exhausted every night, even the nights he was only in the forge, and Rukhash wondered if catching that bear was as good an idea as she thought. The chief was putting Cadoc in a dangerous spot without reinforcements and running him ragged. Even Takhbork had noticed the change and mentioned it to Rukhash.

"Dufkarn's gonna bloody kill 'im," the goblin grumbled one night as he and Fiilmor sat outside of Grazad's cave with Rukhash. She and Grazad were tending the potions outside so Cadoc could get some sleep. He had been out all day and not returned until well past dusk. Rukhash had Bhrafmor see to Cudgel's comfort so Cadoc could get some sleep.

"He wanted the warriors ta let 'im in," Grazad said lightly. "He's doin' what he wanted ta do from the start."

"They ain't let him in," Fiilmor grumbled as she nursed Gruk. "They's just usin' him durin' the day 'cause they can't make them rounds. Ain't no one around if he gets inta trouble."

Rukhash's frown deepened and deepened as the conversation wore on. She did not know what to do. Cadoc had worked so hard to reach this point, and now it seemed as though Dufkarn was dangling a carrot. Cadoc was doing the work of a warrior, and getting a cut for it, but he wasn't working  _with_  them, and Dufkarn had still not offered them a permanent place in the tribe. "I should say somethin'," she said quietly, glancing at Grazad. "But I don't know what ta say. If I go behind Cadoc's back an' have words with the chief, it'll look bad on Cadoc. If I say shit ta Ranmor, that'll look even worse. Her an' Dufkarn ain't exactly chums."

"Ashplak," Grazad said quietly.

"What?"

"Talk ta Ashplak," the old healer said. "He'll know what's up. Got Dufkarn's ear, ev'n more'n Turgrat does, when it comes ta stuff like 'is."

"That weird ol' codger?"

Grazad smiled knowingly at her. "That weird ol' codger's Dufkarn's father."

"Shaddup!" Takhbork said. "Since when?"

Grazad scowled at him. "Since yesterday," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"How'd you know?" Fiilmor asked, just as amazed as her  _shaûk_. "They don't really even smell like each other." She frowned slightly. "Then again, nothin' really smells like ol' Ashplak. Don't think he's stepped a toe in water all the years we been here."

"Because I fucking helped deliver the chief when he were a brat," Grazad grumbled. "Bloody hell. The fuck you think I were doin' all them years in Lugbúrz, scratchin' my wrinkled arse?"

"He don't call 'im dad," Rukhash said, frowning.

"They don't 'ave that sort'a relationship," Grazad explained. "But Ashplak's always kept an eye on the lad, an' Dufkarn trusts the old fuck's advice. You want ta know what's goin' on in the chief's head, have a talk with Ashplak."

"An' here I always though the old bastard were kept around fer laughs," Takhbork chuckled. "Wait 'til I tell Hurug."

Grazad galred at him, her eyes fierce. "Don't you say a fucking word," she hissed. "No one knows about it 'cause they don't want no one knowin' about it fer whatever fuckin' reason. You you shut it 'fore you git me in trouble fer sayin' anythin'."

Fiilmor poked him. "Don't you get Grazad in no trouble!" she rumbled.

Rukhash added her own glare to the mix and Takhbork ducked his head. "Arright, arright, I won't say nothin'!"

Two nights later, Ashplak was on den watch, and Rukhash had finally worked up the nerve to approach him. Cadoc had gone out that morning as well, and just returned with some fresh scratch marks from a warg run-in. She had seen to his and Cudgel's shallow cuts before approaching the old goblin sitting at the mouth of the main entrance.

Ashplak creeped her out a little, and not because he was old and crusty and leering. That sort of thing was fairly harmless in her eyes and, in some ways, actually rather endearing in a crusty, leering old man sort of way. There was just something about the  _sharkû_  that she couldn't nail down. On the surface, he was actually quite congenial, but there were times, speaking to him, that he gave her vicious flashbacks of her old granddad. As though what he said was not what he meant, or that there was something he knew that you didn't. But she was too worried for Cadoc to let that unease stop her, and now would be a perfect time to talk to him, when he was alone and on guard duty.

The moon was out in full tonight, and it gave the scene outside the main tunnel an eerie glow. Ashplak was a dark shape silhouetted against it. His ear tilted back as she approached, and the one-eyed goblin turned towards her with a clever grin.

"Here ta keep me company, little mother?"

"I wanted ta talk ta you," Rukhash said, stopping and sitting just out of reach.

Ashplak rested his long arm on his knee and kept grinning that unnerving grin of his. "What abouts?"

"What's Dufkarn doin' with Cadoc?" she asked. "Runnin' him like he is?"

"Now, now," Ashplak said, his voice full of false confusion, "why would an old bastard like me know a thing like that?"

"I know you got the chief's ear," Rukhash growled. "An' I know he talks ta you…"

"Even if I do, and even if he  _did_ ," Ashplak said, picking at his ear, "I don't see why I should tell  _you_ anythin'. At least, not without you givin' me somethin' back."

"How 'bout I promise not ta poison you?" He laughed at that. "I ain't fuckin' you," Rukhash hissed.

"Who said nothin' 'bout fuckin'?"

"Ain't suckin' yer todger neither."

"Well now, you keep shortenin' our options…"

She surged forward suddenly and grabbed him by his grimy collar. "You tell me why the chief's tryin' ta kill my  _shaûk_!" she snarled. "Or I'm gonna ring yer old neck!"

He wrapped his large hands around her wrists and squeezed. He was a strong old bastard, Rukhash would give him that, but she wasn't intimidated. Rukhash gave him a hard shake. The goblin's normally cheerful face morphed into something serious and dark. "You be careful now, little mother," he said, his tone threatening. "You ain't in no condition ta start what I think yer startin'."

Frustrated, Rukhash released him and sat back on her heels. "Just  _tell me_  what Dufkarn's thinkin'. Cause I ain't sittin' back while this goes on. I'll take Cadoc and we'll fuckin'  _leave_."

Unhurriedly, Ashplak straightened his stiff jerkin and sat back against the wall. "That was a fine stunt he pulled, yer  _shaûk_ ," Ashplak said. "Sure got the chief's attention. The warriors too. 'Course, after a day'r two, they was grumblin' again, wonderin' who he thinks he is, comin' in here and tryin' ta take over."

"What?" Rukhash squawked. "Cadoc ain't tryin' ta  _take over_."

"Well,  _I_  know that," Ashplak said casually. "And the cheif figured that's how it is, but you know, some a them warriors, they just ain't sure. Thinkin' maybe it's some big trick so we'll trust 'im. Sure, killin' a bear's real impressive, but he ain't really proved he's willin' ta go the distance for the tribe, not like the rest of us."

"Cadoc's true ta his word," Rukhash argued. "If he gives it he means it."

"But he ain't given no word, has 'e? He just killed a bear. And words're cheap, girl. Anyone can give a word. It's doin' a thing that makes folks change their mind." Ashplak raised a brow at her, his blue eye piercing. "It's riskin' yer life over an' over, so you know that what needs ta be done'll be done."

"He had some good information fer us tonight, you know," the old goblin continued. "It's how the wargs caught him. Off his horse, lookin' at tracks. Found some foreign orc tracks on our property. Dufkarn took the lads out tonight ta see to it. Done a good job, that Cadoc. The others think so too. He changed alotta minds among the hunters these past two weeks. Better'n that bear did, at any rate." Ashplak smiled cleverly at her. "Even Gaidurb said so, an' he's hated yer man from the start."

"There's the big  _glokfûsh_  hunt in a few days. Muhrgra's girls'll be goin' on that, earnin' their marks. Dufkarn'll probably stay here with the lads ta see to Hrat's folk, make sure they don't step outta bounds, but I think Cadoc might be goin' on that hunt too. Maybe earn 'is own marks." Ashplak leaned his head back, and regarded her with calm calculation.

For a moment, Rukhash didn't know what to say. "So, this were all ta earn Cadoc clout with the hunters? So he could prove 'imself?"

"It were smart, what you had him do," the goblin said. "But it weren't  _that_  smart. Don't think yer more clever'n you are. It'll get you in trouble."

"Hn," Rukhash grunted and smiled her own sly smile. "Well, you tell that boy'a yers thanks fer lookin' out fer Cadoc like this."

Ashplak frowned at her, obviously caught off his stride. "That old bitch should learn ta keep 'er mouth shut."

"You leave Grazad alone," Rukhash rumbled. "Ain't like I'm gonna spread it all over the den. Don't know what the big deal is anyhow."

"You like that old bitch, don't you?" Ashplak said and shook his head reprovingly. "And them smiths you pal around with. You even give a shit or two 'bout Ranmor's girl. You got yer heart tied on yer  _vrasgirden_ , out fer everyone ta see. Everyone knows what you care about, so everyone knows where ta hurt ya, not just that man, but them others too."

"Ain't no one got no reason ta hurt me," Rukhash said, frowning.

Ashplak laughed so hard at that, he nearly lost his breath. "No reason, she says!" he gasped. "Since when do anyone need a  _reason_?"

That sort of thinking reached a level of paranoid that was hard for Rukhash to comprehend. Usually, if someone had it out for you, there was purpose behind it, especially in a tribe or clan: they wanted your position, or they wanted something you owned, or they had some personal grudge against you. But that hadn't been the case when she went to Mordor proper. There were folks there willing to do all sorts of nasty shit to you just for the hell of it, just because they were so miserable, they wanted to make everyone else miserable. Just because they  _could_. Rukhash had always kept her head down and did her job, and in many ways, Grazad's oversight protected her from the worst of it. She wondered if anyone had bothered to protect Ashplak. "You lived too long in Lugbúrz, old lad," Rukhash said quietly, feeling sad.

His laughing came to an abrupt stop and he glared at her. "If that's fucking pity I see on yer face, I'm gonna slap it off."

" _Nar_ , Ashplak, ain't no pity," she informed him. "I don't feel bad for mean old fucks." He grinned at her. "But thanks, fer lettin' me know what's what. Makes me rest a little easier."

"I'll just consider you owin' me one,' he said and smiled broadly at her.

"Fair enough," she said. "But no fuckin'," she added hastily. He shrugged easily, still grinning and she shook her head, leaving him to his watch at the tunnel entrance.

Ashplak stared at her retreating back until she rounded the first bend in the tunnel. Sighing, he turned towards the hazy August night, and waited for his son to return.

* * *

**Translations**

**glokfûsh**  I mentioned them already. They are those really fucking big otters.


	58. Initiates

**Splint**

**Chapter 58: Initiates**

**AN:** _I have a feeling I am going to go back into this before I post the next chapter and flesh stuff out, but for now, I feel done._

* * *

A very strange noise woke Rukhash up. It was an odd  _sht, sht, sht_ , so quiet, it had invaded her dreams as a tongue flicking snake. She opened her eyes to the dim interior of Grazad's den. The hearthfire had not been lit for the day, but a small oil lamp cast a weak light in the little cubby that Rukhash and Cadoc shared. Her  _shaûk_  was awake, sitting crosslegged in the corner where they kept their belongings, hunched over the lamp with a straight razor in his hand. A tiny, palm sized mirror was carefully balanced on the lid of the lamp, wedged awkwardly against the folded, looping handle. Cadoc hovered over it, squinting, his beard threaded in his hand as he slipped the blade between his jaw and his fingers and trimmed.  _Sht, sht, sht_  went the razor as Cadoc cut with careful, short strokes.

"You're cutting it off?" Rukhash asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice. She had become very accustomed to that beard. In her mind, it was synonymous with Cadoc.

His grey eye darted towards her and he sat up a little. "I would never be able to keep up with it, if I did," he answered quietly rustling the hair from his fingers into a neat little pile that was already there. "But it does need a trim." He turned to face her fully and pointed to the right side of his face, which remained ungroomed. His hair poofed out comically compared to the neat line he was making on the left side. "You see?"

She honestly hadn't noticed it had gotten so bad. "Guess yer right," she smirked. "Gettin' ready fer the big day?"

Cadoc raised a brow at her. "I  _am_  anxious," he admitted. "Not for the hunt, I am sure that will go well, but I feel like I did on my first real mission, after I had finished my training. No one is up yet, and I needed something to do. Besides," he added, "I have not had the opportunity to do this in nearly two months. I am starting to look a little silly."

"I don't think you look silly," she said, smiling softly.

"You are biased."

He continued to trim and Rukhash watched him quietly, vaguely aware of Grazad's snoring behind her. He would be going out on the  _glokfûsh_  hunt tonight with a small contingent of hunters: Ashplak, who was leading them; Muhrgra and his daughters Sapatuk and Shaaraguk; Nûtgroth, who had apparently bitched up and down about it; and Takhbork, who had been added on by Dufkarn after Cadoc confirmed he had become a proficient archer and tracker over the past months.

While the smith's sword training was going slowly, Cadoc had happily informed Rukhash that their friend was quite adept in the ranger way of tracking – his nose being long burned out by sulphurous forges – and his skill with a bow was becoming something to boast of. The pair of them had hunted down some sleek ermine the night before, after the forge work had been squared away. Takhbork wanted to give his new bowstring a try. Though already considered a productive member of the tribe, with his own mark on his chest, this was the first time he was invited out with the hunters. Rukhash imagined he was full of as much nervous energy as Cadoc. He was probably driving Fiilmor up the walls right now.

Rukhash's eyes darted to Cadoc's half of the ermine pelts, drying on their small rack in the corner. She ran her palm over the bear skin beneath her. There had been a few holes that had needed stitching, but the fur was so thick, you could barely tell where it was patched. It had been a nice addition to their bedding, especially now that she was so unbearably large that she could only sleep in one position. The added cushion was immensely helpful.

She felt as though she was all belly now; an odd feeling, considering she couldn't eat more than a few bites at a sitting, because her insides were so squished. Strange, how she had forgotten about the discomfort of these last days of pregnancy. The sprog had turned last night, head down, and Cadoc nearly decided not to go on this three day hunt, but Rukhash insisted. It may still be another week before the sprog decided to come, and this was important. More important than watching her pop a person out of her twat.

"It's the miracle of life," he had said.

"Well," she had answered dryly, "you push out the next one an' tell me how much've a 'miracle' it feels like. The important part's what comes after."

He wouldn't have been allowed to sit with her anyhow; and she wouldn't have been comfortable with him hovering over her during labor. Female orcs kept to each other, or to themselves, while they were birthing, and it would be the chief, not Cadoc, who would be the first male to see their girl. It was his decision whether or not she would be allowed to live past her first few minutes. That had been a very anxious conversation for Cadoc. The look on his face made Rukhash wish she hadn't mentioned it.

"He ain't gonna off her unless somethin's wrong with her," she had assured him. "An' Grazad says everythin' smells like it should. She's seen a few half orcs born in Lugbúrz in'er day."

Instead of bolstering him, that information made Cadoc's face grow even graver. "Would he consider her mannish heritage 'something wrong'?"

Rukhash didn't think so, and told Cadoc as much. She couldn't imagine the chief would have let her progress this far without mentioning that he intended to snuff their sprog no matter what. Dufkarn didn't possess that kind of mean in him. At least, Rukhash didn't think he did.

She told Cadoc to focus on the big hunt coming up. This was a huge occasion for the tribe, and usually ended in a celebration that lasted days. Dufkarn would be staying behind with the warriors to make sure their eastern neighbors didn't pull any shit, so Rukhash felt well protected. And the most she had to worry about, workload wise, was prepping the last of the order for the Glokong tribe. That was nearly done, with a whole cave full of preserved herbs and plants. "It'll be fine," she had told him the night before, when he kept tossing in bed. "You go on an' concentrate on what you have ta do, and don't worry. You'll get yerself 'urt doin' that." Her ease with the situation seemed to settle his unease, but it did not eliminate it.

Cadoc was starting on the other side of his face, trying to whittle his nervousness away with his overgrown beard. She had to admit, the trimmed side did look better.

* * *

The stretch of western marshland and rivers where they would hunt the giant otters of Nûrn was a night's run away. Cadoc was keeping a fast pace next to Takhbork who, like the other orcs with them, was galloping on all fours, his strides just as long as Cadoc's. Orcs were fast on all fours, and Cadoc was grateful that, though the moon was waning, it was still mostly full and casting a bright light over the clear, September night. Considering all the nervous energy stored up in him right now, he had no trouble keeping up.

Cadoc could only guess that it was early September now. He had been keeping a vague track of the weeks, and if his math was correct, today was the second in the month, only twenty four days from his forty third birthday. A bit old to be on a coming-of-age ritual hunt, but here he was on what was considered a happy occasion for the warrior orcs here.

About seven yards away, Muhrgra and his two daughters – Sapatuk was the one with the coiled braid – were sifting silently through the undergrowth. The girls were around twelve years old, according to Rukhash –a year or so away from their first heat – but they looked older than that to Cadoc. Both Sapatuk and Shaaraguk were mostly developed, though they still had the lithe, narrow frame of maidenhood. They were as tall as any of the female orcs of the den. If Cadoc hadn't known, he would have said they were proper teenagers or young adults. Then again, as he understood it, twelve  _was_  considered young adult among orcs.

They were both rough looking girls. They had their father's heavy jaw and exceptionally long, jutting lower fangs. Cadoc would not have called them ugly outright, but personally, he couldn't say they were attractive. It had nothing to do with the fact that they were orcs, or even that they were orcs of a goblin breed. Because of his familiarity with them, or his affection for Rukhash, he could honestly say quite a few women in the tribe were rather pretty. After all, just because he was married did not mean he had been stricken blind. But Sapatuk and Shaaraguk had drawn the unfortunate short stick in the looks department, which did not make them any less favored among their male peers. Among orcs, a formidable female was just as desirable in the furs as a pretty one; a sentiment Cadoc could appreciate. He considered Rukhash quite formidable.

Thinking of Rukhash made him think of the impending birth of their child. He had been trying to clear his mind of concern all night, but her assurances had not assuaged his troubled feeling. He was hurt that she had not wanted him there for the birth, even if their child was born after he returned; and he was worried about that inspection business with the chief. She had seemed oddly detached and unconcerned about the whole affair, both about the prospect of giving birth and that their daughter could be slain for the mere act of a tiny deformation. And what did that mean, anyway? What would the chief considered deformed? Too fair skin? Mannish colored eyes? A lack of claws? With him as the father, there were bound to be inconsistencies.

He was starting to lose pace with the group, and Cadoc shook himself of his worrisome meditations. Quickening his step, he fell back in line with Takhbork. The goblin gave him a knowing, sidelong glance. With Rukhash so nonplussed and eager that he not be concerned, it seemed that Takhbork was the only one Cadoc could discuss his worries with without fear of being told to not have them. His goblin friend was well aware of the weight Cadoc carried with him tonight.

"It'll be fine, lad," the smith rumbled. "Let the run clear yer head."

Cudgel trotted behind them. Normally, more of the hunters would be out on this venture, but with Chief Hrat stirring up trouble on the eastern border, Dufkarn had wanted the bulk of the warriors with him. It was why he had inquired as to Takhbork's training. This yearly hunt brought in a month's worth of meat, something they would need when it started raining in October and didn't stop until February. Dufkarn had not wanted them to catch fewer animals because they couldn't carry it all home, so Cudgel was along to help them drag it all back. She had poles bundled on her back for making a litter. Though Cadoc probably could have finagled a way to ride her, he wanted to run with the other hunters. He felt as though there was enough of a chasm there as it was. That last thing he wanted was to make it more obvious.

They reached the appointed campsite just before the sky began to lighten. Their camp would consist of only a simple lean-to – to spare the goblins sleeping under the sun – and a small fire. This would be a shorter hunt than years past because of the looming threat in the east. Ashplak wanted them to travel light so they could get there quicker and have a full night of hunting. Their bows and quivers were more important than sleeping rolls and blankets, especially since the temperate weather didn't warrant them. Everything was prepared in short order: the tent was set up against a wide tree; the fire was lit; Takhbork had dragged a fallen log nearby so they had somewhere to sit besides the damp ground and Cadoc had collected some dried leaves to scatter along the floor of the lean to. Once they were settled, Nûtgroth wandered off to check the immediate area while Muhrgra and his girls crowded around the fire with Ashplak and Takhbork. Still troubled, Cadoc took a brief walk outside of camp.

Here, the trees were just as towering as the forest near the den, but the terrain was flatter, covered with patches of pale moss that grew up the trunks like a shaggy green rug and clusters of dark green ferns that sprouted out of the spaces between tree roots. Beneath his feet feet, the ground was spongy and wet, but there were none of the bare patches that warned of sinking mire, so Cadoc felt safe walking a ways from camp. He found a large, gnarled root that was a good height for a sit and did just that. Glancing behind him, he could see the merry dance of firelight sifting through the pillars of ancient flora. Ashplak let out a roarous hoot, and the group around the fire fell into a round of laughter.

"Yer awful mopey fer a lad what's gettin' a big favor handed his way," a soft, rumbling voice said at his left.

Turning, Cadoc realized Nûtgroth was only a few feet away, her green eyes piercing the gloom of early morning. Cadoc did not consider being run nearly ragged over the past weeks and offered a chance on this strange ceremony all that huge a favor. In fact, he felt as though he had gone above and beyond to prove his worth, but that was probably not how Nûtgroth saw things. "I have a lot on my mind," he said.

"Do ya?" With a graceful purpose, she swung to perch herself near him, a little further up the root, so she was taller than he was when she squatted. She tilted her head like an inquisitive bird. "'At's a nice necklace you got."

Cadoc brushed his hand briefly over the  _vrasgirden_  Rukhash had made him. It contained two of the claws flanking the largest canine from the bear he had caught. "Thank you," he said.

Per her promise, Rukhash had done a skillful job making it. The knots were very purposefully made, so that the tying on every claw and tooth had a little design woven into the twine. It was a subtle detail he had not noticed when looking at her  _vrasgirden_. Cadoc had always assumed the arrangement of teeth and bones on orcish necklaces was rather random and hurried, but now that he had one of his own, and was looking more closely at the necklaces of others, he realized there was thoughtful purpose in their construction.

"Never met a man what wanted ta be an orc," Nûtgroth murmured. "Not even them blokes we used ta raid with went through all the trouble you 'ave."

By now, Cadoc was well aware of the tribe's history as former raiders. He already decided that, so long as they had stopped, he would not concern himself with it. "I doubt those men had the same concerns I do."

"A  _shaûk_  an' a kid on the way?"

Cadoc nodded.

" _Nar_ ," Nûtgroth purred. "Guess they didn't. Didn't seem like the settlin' down type, them lads. Still, it've been easier on you, if ya chose ta settle somewhere else."

"I am already here," Cadoc said. He frowned slightly. "Would  _you_  prefer I was  _not_  here, Nûtgroth?"

She raised a brow at him. "Don't concern me one way're another. If dad says yer in, an' I'll go along with it. Just seems like a lot of fuss yer puttin' yerself through, tryin' ta be somethin' yer not. More'a an observation, really."

"I do not want to be an orc, Nûtgroth" Cadoc said. "But I  _would_  like to be considered tribe. I care about many of the people here."

A shrewd look came over her. "An' if yer own folk came runnin' through, tryin' ta off us, what would you do?"

He started at that a bit. It was certainly a forthright, and accusatory, inquiry. "I will do the same thing I did the last time men threatened Rukhash," Cadoc lifted his chin. "I will kill them."

She grinned broadly. "I hear they call you traitor."

Frowning, Cadoc turned towards the forest. Somewhere in the dim distance, a bird fluttered to the ground. "They may call me what they like. I have not betrayed my heart."

"So… yer doin' this for  _her_?"

Cadoc glanced at the young female perched next to him. He could not quite guage her expression. "Her  _and_  our daughter." his eyes fell to the ground. "And for me as well. If I am going to live among you, then I would like a useful place."

"But, you wouldn't  _be here_  if it wasn't for her."

"Every decision we make steers the course we are on," Cadoc said. "I would not change any decision I have made regarding Rukhash. I have no regrets."

Nûtgroth looked skeptical. "Really?  _None_?"

Cadoc frowned thoughtfully. "I  _do_  wish I brought some pipe weed with me," Cadoc said lightly.

Shaking her head, she laughed and hopped from the root. "I don' even know what that is. Light's comin'," she observed, glancing eastward. "We should git some cover."

"I'm alright for a bit," Cadoc said with a small smile. "I told Ashplak I would take first watch."

" _Ah_ ," Nûtgroth breathed. "Guess that makes sense."

* * *

Halfway through the day, Cadoc returned to the lean-to and crowded in with the orcs sleeping inside. Muhrgra had drawn the short straw for second day watch, and Cadoc shook him awake. The broad orc grumbled sleepily as he rolled from his spot,shoved Nûtgroth and his daughters off of himself, and headed into the midday sun with a hiss. Even with the tree cover, the sun still wreaked havoc on goblin eyes. A day watch meant keeping your nose sharp, since most goblins could not see more than a few meters when accosted by too much light. Cadoc carefully arranged himself near the exit, next to Takhbork, to avoid being tangled in the knot of limbs inside the lean-to. Untroubled by the sun himself, he thought it was a rather nice day for a nap.

He woke to Takhbork roughly shaking him. Dizzily, Cadoc blinked up at the goblin. "Up'n at'em," the smith chirped. "Time ta hunt some  _glokfûsh_!" Takhbork sounded annoyingly excited. Cadoc could have used with another hour of sleep.

But there was no time for that. The sun had barely set and the hunters were shouldering their quivers, stringing their bows and checking their harpoon-like spears. Takhbork and Fiilmor had fashioned special arrows, with hooks on the back end to catch into flesh. Muhrgra had a large net rolled up and stashed on his shoulders.

Hunting  _glokfûsh_  was dangerous business. Cadoc had come across a few on his scouting missions, observing them from a distance as they sunned themselves on a riverbank. Even from yards away, they snarled at him hostilely, and slithered into the water. They were very mobile on land, though they could not run very quickly, and they were deadly in the water, especially for an orc. Orc bones were heavy and dense, especially among the goblin breeds, and they struggled to merely tread water. Cadoc understood why hunting these large, aquatic animals was a hunter's right-of-passage. For an orc, there was no greater disadvantage when it came to prey. It took skill and smarts to bring one down.

It took the better part of early evening to find a nest of them. Cadoc and Takhbork had come in handy then. The scent of a  _glokfûsh_  was very subdued because of all the time they spent in water, and it was Cadoc that spotted the subtle, day-old signs of a large creature treading along the mossy riverbank. Takhbork found a fresher trail a little downriver, and Cadoc could tell that Ashplak was impressed. He offered the goblin smith some uncharacteristic praise, and Takhbork preened a little. Sapatuk and Shaaraguk sidled up to Cadoc, peppering him with questions. Muhrgra followed behind, listening intently to Cadoc's answers.

Then, it was time for sharp noses. Ashplak and Nûtgroth took the lead. Once they scented the  _glokfûsh_ , they motioned the rest of the hunters to keep low. "We'll circle 'round," Ashplak murmured, calling them into a huddle. "Come at 'em from the forest. They'll spot us on the riverbank. Takhbork, Muhrgra an' me'll fire the shots. The rest'll do the spearin'."

"There's three of 'em," Nûtgroth noted. "A male an' two bitches. Stay sharp an' watch the bitches. They're the ones at'll drag you under. The male'll just come at'cha" That last bit of advice was directed at the four novices, and Cadoc, Takhbork and Muhrgra's girls nodded emphatically.

As they approached the river from the forest side, they were afforded a high angle. Here, the river was bordered by wide, round, lichen covered stones that stepped up to the softer earth under the eaves. The three _glokfûsh_ were upwind and very interested in each other, most likely a mated group. As Cadoc understood it, they swam upriver towards the mountains to breed in the fall and winter, and down towards the sea to have their young in spring and summer. The three of them were making an awful racket, barking and bobbing their heads and bellowing strange, hooting noises.

And they were huge; not quite the size of a bear, but much larger than a wolf, probably close to three hundred pounds each, with the male on the larger scale. They were slick from a recent swim and had moved on shore a ways. That was somewhat curious, since they were so much more adept in water, but as the male reared up and began a strange, undulating dance, Cadoc realized they must have happened upon this trio during some manner of mating practice.  _At least they're distracted_ , Cadoc thought as he crept forward. The archers took their place halfway up a gnarled tree and Cadoc waited with his spear ready. It would be a mad dash down a slick hill to make sure they didn't escape to the water.

The archers fired the first volley, and two of the  _glokfûsh_  roared furiously. The third panicked and headed towards the water. Another volley soon followed. This round, the archers used hooked arrows and a length of thin rope attached to the end of the shaft. Already, Cadoc was bounding towards the first  _glokfûsh_ , the male, who charged recklessly and was felled easily by Cadoc and Sapatuk's spears. Nûtgroth had headed after the fleeing female, while Muhrgra and Takhbork held fast to the rope attached to the other  _glokfûsh_  so Shaaraguk could take her down. The first two animals were killed in a matter of seconds. It was Nûtgroth's quarry that was giving them trouble.

Ashplak had the female  _glokfûsh_  caught fast. His arrow had landed deep in her chest and the rope was holding, but she was halfway in the water, thrashing violently as he tried to reel her in. Muhrgra and Cadoc rushed to help him pull while Nûtgroth and Shaaraguk waded into the water to spear her. Shaaraguk managed a glancing blow across the beasts back that had her roaring. Then, the  _glokfûsh_  rolled, breaking the arrow stuck in her, and made a dive straight for Nûtgroth.

Normally, a  _glokfûsh_  would try to take hold of an attacker and bring them down, but this female was too panicked to try. What she did do was knock Nûtgroth into the deeper water. The goblin immediately went under. Cadoc swore and dove after her.

Seeing in pitch black water in the middle of the night was an impossible task. Cadoc grasped frantically in the dark before heading to the surface again. Gulping air, he glanced towards the shore. Ashplak pointed downriver. "She surfaced there!" he shouted.

Cadoc caught a glimpse of Nûtgroth's green eyes as she struggled to keep her head up. Swimming towards her, he was horrified to see the wide, silver head of the  _glokfûsh_ that escaped. Apparently, she had overcome her fear of orcish hunters and was looking to pay them back for ruining her romantic evening. The ranger hastened his stroke and dove as Nûtgroth slipped underwater for a second time. He caught her under the arms just as a sharp toothed mouth bit his boot and tugged him further down. Nûtgroth was limp in his arms, not struggling, and Cadoc knew he had no time for otter wrestling. He pulled his long knife from his boot and stabbed blindly. The blade stuck fast into something soft and fleshy. There was an eruption of bubbles and blood and the teeth around his ankle released him. Cadoc abandoned his knife and swam to the surface.

He dragged Nûtgroth's limp body on shore and Ashplak was immediately at his side. He pounded the orcess's chest and she coughed, jerked and rolled to the side, vomiting a large portion of water onto the river bank. The old goblin patted her between the shoulders. "Steady on, girl," Ashplak said, sounding relieved as she hacked violently. "You'll live."

Blinking the water from her eyes, she gave Cadoc an appreciative nod. "Good thing you  _tarks_  float," she gasped. Cadoc laughed.

"Takhbork'n Muhrgra's chasin' down the body," Ashplak said, pointing downriver. "The bitch surfaced while you was swimmin' back. Big ol' knife in 'er head." The old goblin grinned. "He's gonna net 'er'n then we'll drag these three back ta camp fer butcherin'." He motioned for Sapatuk and Shaaraguk to approach them as he helped Nûtgroth to her feet. "We managed the first big run. You two go wit' Cadoc an' earn yer marks together. We only got one night fer it this year, so don't waste no time."

The  _glokfûsh_ had not pierced the leather in his boots. Testing his ankle, Cadoc was relieved that it felt fine _._ Takhbork lent him a knife, and the he was off with Sapatuk and Shaaraguk, heading further upstream.

It was not tracking, but Shaaraguk's sharp eyes that caught sight of their next quarry. They had run for nearly an hour into a section of riverbank with heavy shade, making it even more difficult for Cadoc to see, but once the young huntress had pointed out the wide, pale head in the middle of the broad river, a good few hundred yards away, he spotted it immediately. He could tell by the size of the head this was a male, and he was alone. There would be no way to lure him on shore, and if he spotted them, he was apt to dive. The three hunters decided to wait in ambush on the length of shore they were on. The  _giokfûsh_  was floating towards them lazily on his back, looking quite relaxed.

While they waited, Cadoc threaded a length of thin rope through the needle-like eye on the end of his fletch. These arrows had been made special, with a head that would catch fast, so they could pull the beast towards shore. Notching his arrow, Cadoc drew his bow and waited alongside Sapatuk, who was drawn and ready as well. Shaaraguk tested her spear in her hand and waited.

Sapatuk's arrow caught the animal in the shoulder, but Cadoc had aimed for the neck. Their shots buried deep, and the  _glokfûsh_  howled and began to writhe. He nearly dragged Cadoc and Sapatuk into the water with him, but they caught their footing, winding the rope slowly around their palm and elbow, reeling him in. As they dragged him, thrashing, into shallower water, he loosed Sapatuk's arrow and she fell forward. Shaaraguk did not spare her twin a thought as she bounded towards their quarry and plunged her spear into his chest. Sapatuk regained herself and leapt gracefully onto the  _glokfûsh_ 's back, stabbing between his shoulder blades as Cadoc held fast to his rope. The beast gave a final, desperate attack, whipping his claws towards Shaaraguk and throwing her into the water before he collapsed.

Cadoc surged forward, ready to jump in after her, but the young huntress stood up, only waist deep in water, and waved towards shore. "I's fine!" she growled cheerfully.

"I know you  _love_  swimmin'," Sapatuk said with a cheeky grin. "But yer wet enough, eh Cadoc? Let's butcher this thing an' head back 'fore the sun's up."

Glancing towards the sky, Cadoc detected the subtle lightening at the east. It would take them a few hours to hike back to camp. "The sun may find us anyway," Cadoc said. "But I think the night is starting to catch up with me." He rolled his stiff shoulders and stooped to help her skin the carcass. The whole of this animal belonged to the three of them, according to custom, so they divided the pelt, meat and innards into threes and pulled the teeth and claws, saving them to be added to their respective  _vrasgirden_  later.

The sun did rise before they returned, but not high enough to hinder the orcesses' much. Sapatuk grumbled the last hour they were hiking, but it did not slow her pace. Muhrgra was sitting at the edge of camp, staring out into the forest, and Cadoc caught the worried look on his face before he spotted them and grinned a wide, toothy grin. "There's my girls!" he said as they approached.

* * *

The next night, after they packed up Cudgel for the trip back and while they were eating breakfast, Ashplak sat Cadoc Shapatuk and Shaaraguk down near the low fire he had built and pulled a knife from his boot. He heated it over the flame and approached Shaaraguk. She loosed the leather binding her breasts and let it fall so the space above her heart was bared.

Without preamble or fanfare, Ashplak pressed the knife into her chest three times, making a little triangle. Then, he added another angle on the right third, creating another smaller triangle inside the larger. Reaching into a little pot, he spread some salve over the bleeding wound. "Don't let no one say you ain't useful," he told her and she smiled. Muhrgra patted her back as the old goblin moved to Sapatuk. "You neither," he told the other girl when he was done.

He turned towards Cadoc, who pulled open the left side of his shirt without having been told. The branding of orcs in a tribe was an odd custom, but no odder than blood brothers cutting their hands and letting their blood mingle. Cadoc was not terribly keen on the decorative scarring Takhbork seemed fond of, but he understood that this mark was an important symbol of belonging, and had already prepared himself for this moment. As with the girls, Ashplak said nothing as he pressed the knife into Cadoc's flesh, forming the same, triangular mark, and Cadoc did his best not to flinch at the sting. The old goblin swiped salve over the wound and clasped Cadoc's shoulder, giving him a friendly shake. "Welcome to the Gundbarashal Tribe, lad."

Now that the big hunt was done, and Cadoc's mark was a dull throb on his chest, his mind turned immediately to Rukhash. The whole run home, it was all he could think about. As they moved into more familiar territory and the den felt nearer and nearer, it was all Cadoc could do not to surge ahead of the rest of the group. When they finally reached the main entrance, he had to physically calm himself so he could unload Cudgel, wipe her down and help the hunters drag the carcasses into the carving cavern. They were met at the main entrance by several other hunters who patted his back with as much friendly welcome as they did Muhrgra's daughters. Even Takhbork was getting some friendly nudges. Despite his concern, Cadoc felt happy for his goblin friend, who had been searching for this respect from the tribe warriors.

Though no one mentioned that Rukhash had gone into labor, Dufkarn was curiously not among them, and Cadoc inquired about his absence. "See ta the meat," Turgrat growled as he hoisted a skinned body up on the pulleys in the corner. Cadoc tried to ignore that terse remark as he helped to string up the  _glokfûsh_  carcasses. There were many hunters missing from their welcoming party. They very well might be out on a mission securing the border.

Fiilmor wandered in at some point. She approached Takhbork and, with a pleased smile, fingered the sharp  _glokfûsh_  tooth on his sparse  _vrasgirden_. "My  _shaûk_  the hunter," she purred with a happy smile before turning towards Cadoc.

"You should head in," she said, her expression falling.

Cadoc frowned and turned towards Turgrat as he approached them. "Done, is she?" the chief's  _shaûk_  said.

More confused and worried than before, Cadoc gave Fiilmor a questioning look. "Yer girl started in on 'er labor this mornin'," Fiilmor told him. "Been at it all day'n night. She said not ta tell you nothin' til the chief had a look."

He had never felt more angry with Rukhash. " _Has_  he had a look?" Cadoc asked, his voice tight.

Fiilmor fidgeted. "Just went in there now," she said. "This sorta thing don't usually last too long."

Without waiting for Turgrat to give him leave, Cadoc strode past Fiilmor and through the short tunnel that led to the main den. A firm grip on his wrist kept him from his determined route across the cave. Cadoc glared down at Ranmor, who had stopped his progression.

"Sit," she ordered.

"I am going to see Rukhash…"

" _Sit_ ," she barked, tugging on his arm, and Cadoc sat, cross legged, staring at Grazad's small cave. The nook where he and Rukhash slept was off to the side and out of view, but he caught sight of the bear skin piled on Grazad's bed. Rukhash probably didn't want it ruined. He glared at the far wall of Grazad's cave, where the the light of her small hearth flickered over the rough stone, and fumed.

Ranmor sat next to him. "It's how it's done," she said.

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," Cadoc told her, still glaring. He thought he caught some subtle movement off to the side of the hearth, and he leaned sideways, hoping to get a view of something.

The den mother poked his chest, very near to where his mark had just been applied, and Cadoc flinched. "Don't do nothin' stupid," she said. "I already know Dufkarn ain't gonna hold her mannish half against 'er. If 'e were, you wouldn'tve gotten no marks. So  _settle_."

Takhbork suddenly sat next to him. Putting a hand on his shoulder, the goblin smith said, "It'll be alright lad."

* * *

Dufkarn looked from the strange, mewling sprog in his grip to her impassive mother. Rukhash was covered in sweat from her long labor, wore out, but her face was calm. She seemed oddly detached as she regarded him. He wondered if she was as concerned about her brat as he was.

Examining the infant squirming in his hand, Dufkarn was not sure how to judge her. She was a long sprog, with too fair skin, too short arms, too long legs and feet that looked more mannish than orcish, but he had expected that. All of her digits were there, tipped with pale, soft claws that would harden with time, but her brow was too subtle and her ears were exceptionally odd. Unlike the concave triangular ears of an orc, they were more shell like, with long points; an exaggerated version of  _golug_  ears. Her face was all Rukhash, and she had the subtle slope of an orcish profile, but her head was not the right shape: taller instead of longer.

The girl glared at him with defiant grey eyes. She had been dried off, but her hair was still damp and sticky with birth water. Dufkarn turned to Grazad. He frowned at the old healer. "I have'ta go by you," he admitted. "Is she normal fer a  _baalak_?"

"Half man sprogs mix different every time," Grazad informed him. "But she smells good, aside from the man stink on 'er, an' that's ta be expected. Eyes're open, got a good little grip, she's sure pissed at you holdin' 'er like that, so 'at's a good sign. No way ta know if she'll grow a little slower'n the other sprogs, but she's months ahead've the next batch born. I'm sure she'll catch up if 'at's the case."

"So, she's fine."

"Seems fine ta me," Grazad said as she dried her hands off.

The old healer had already seen to Rukhash's comfort, and Bhrafmor had been sent to wash the cloths they used during the delivery. The whole cave stank like healing poultices and birthing blood, and Dufkarn wanted to get out of there. This was his least favorite duty as chief, and if Grazad didn't see anything wrong with the sprog, then he wouldn't worry about it. Killing newborns was not exactly his idea of a good time, and in the twelve years that he had led the tribe, he had only been forced to do it twice.

He didn't see a reason to do it now. "Well, then little lass, off ta mum you go," he said, passing the girl back to her mother. Rukhash accepted her with a pleased smile. The little  _baalak_  mewled loudly and nuzzled into her mother's breast as Rukhash wrapped her up in a fox fur blanket.

Leaving the new mother to her sprog, Dufkarn strode into the main cave and immediately caught sight of Cadoc as he sat, glaring, in Dufkarn's general direction. He didn't even have to take a sniff to catch the anger radiating off the ranger. Ranmor and Takhbork and Fiilmor were with him, obviously trying to offer him some comfort. The chief strode calmly towards him and tagged his shoulder.

"It's a fine girl you got," Dufkarn said and continued his trek through the main cave to see what the hunting party brought in. He did not turn to check Cadoc's reaction, and he didn't need to. The moment he passed, the ranger stood and headed straight into Grazad's cave.

Cadoc did not know what to think or say or do as he stood at the mouth of the den, looking down on his  _shaûk_ and the little bundle in her arms. Grazad waddled past, giving him a light pat on the knee as she left, and Cadoc moved to kneel at Rukhash's side. A part of him was still angry with her. He felt as though he had been pushed away from the first moments of his daughter's life. He had stayed with Ingrid throughout the entire birth of their son, and while even among his own folk that was not usual, it was a memory he had treasured.

So, he was angry, but it was hard to remain angry as he looked upon the tiny face of his daughter. Cadoc pressed his hand to the damp nape of Rukhash's neck, and could do nothing but stare. "She's good lookin', yea?" Rukhash said, laying her hand on his knee.

Cadoc nodded dumbly, blinking away the tears clouding his vision. Their daughter was tiny and perfect, with dusty copper skin that looked almost reddish in the firelight and a splattering of dark freckles on her nose and cheeks, just like her mother. While she suckeld, she opened her eyes for him. They were a clear, soft grey, like a summer storm. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in all his life.

"I were thinkin' Dolpan fer a name," Rukhash went on, threading her claws through their daughter's short, damp curls. There were little auburn strands mixed in with the black. "My little red fox."

Blinking from his awe, Cadoc gave her a dour look. She had insisted on not speaking of names because it was bad luck; and among orcs, it was the mother's prerogative to name their offspring, but Cadoc had hoped for something a little less… orcish. "May I make a suggestion?" he asked.

"You don't like Dolpan?" Rukhash said with a frown. Her expression hardened. "I ain't givin' 'er some flutey elf name."

"That was not my suggestion," Cadoc told her, and gently touched his daughter's soft cheek. "I was thinking… since both you and I are part Dunlending, that we give her a Dunlending name."

Rukhash frowned. "I don't know no Dunlending names. Not fer girls, anyhow."

"I was hoping that you might concede to name her after my grandmother."

"Yer granny?" Rukhash gave him an inquisitive look. "What were  _her_  name?"

"Dera," Cadoc supplied.

"Dera," Rukhash tested and looked down at their daughter who was sucking voraciously at her breast. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I think I like that," she admitted. "What do you think, sprog?"

Their daughter made a little gurgling noise as she ate.

Cadoc smiled softly. "That sounded like a 'yes' to me," he wheedled.

"Arright then, Dera it is." She glanced up at him. "Yer angry, ain't ya?"

"It is impossible for me to be angry with you right now," Cadoc admitted. "But I am a little upset I was uninformed of her birth. I would have liked to be here for that."

"Ain't like I had much choice in it…"

"I know," Cadoc said, stroking her damp hair. "And I know it was important for me to go on this hunt, but I feel as though you have pushed me away during the past few days; as though you did not want me here."

"I knew you'd just fuss," Rukhash huffed. "I didn't want ya flutterin' around me while I were workin' at birthin', and I knew the chief's inspection were gettin' ya in a twist. I just wanted ta spare ya that. The hunt were a good distraction, ya? And look here," she glanced down at her own mark, already a few days healed. "The chief gave Grazad the go ahead ta do that the night you left. We're in. All them months a workin' at it, an' now the three of us got a safe spot. I know you was worried, but I were sure Dufkarn were gonna be fair about lookin' her over."

"How'd the hunt go?" she asked, changing the subject.

"It went well," he said. "We pulled in four animals, and I received my marks. Rukhash," he was not prepared to let the matter drop, "next time, I would prefer if you didn't go behind my back and keep things from me."

"I were sparin' you a worry…"

"I worried twice as much," he told her. "Even with your reassurances. You cannot keep me from worrying where you and Dera are concerned."

She looked down at their daughter. Dera had finished nursing with a wide, adorable yawn. Rukhash lifted her towards Cadoc. "Go on an' hold yer girl," she said. "You been talkin' to 'er through my belly all these weeks, now you get ta see 'er."

Cadoc took his daughter in his arms as she blinked sleepily at him, her tiny nose twitching as she sniffed him. He smiled softly at her, unable to peel his eyes away.

"I won't do that again," Rukhash said suddenly, and Cadoc glanced up at her. "Fer orcs, birthin' sprogs is somethin' done among the girls, an' havin' you around… well I weren't real comfortable with it. If ya want ta be here next time, when we decide ta have another, 'en I won't be buggered about it; if it means 'at much to you. But we do things the way we do things. The chief is still gonna have ta look our sprogs over. It's how it's done."

"I  _am_  relieved that Dufkarn seems to have been fair about it."

"'Course he were,' Rukhash scoffed. "He don't really seem like the type ta get off on snuffin' babies. And we was in afore she were born, even if it were  _just_  before. Orcs don't go offin their brats left'n right. There'd have ta be somethin'  _really_  wrong. I told ya this already."

"I know," Cadoc said quietly as he rocked Dera.

"My Cadoc," Rukhash brushed her hand down his arm. "You've been workin' real hard at this since we came 'ere. I'm real proud'a you. An' it'll be easier from now on, you'll see. We'll get our own cave now an' settle in an' things won't be as up in the air as they've been. You got two spots now: with the hunters 'n the smiths, an' I got my spot as a healer. Now it's just livin'; as easy're hard as that ever is."

Leaning over, Cadoc kissed her briefly on the crown. "You should get some sleep," he told her. "I'll keep an eye on Dera."

Rukhash yawned loudly. "Ya,' she said. "I'm bleedin' bushed."

"And thank you."

She frowned at him. "For what?"

Cadoc glanced from his daughter to his  _shaûk_ with a gentle smile. "For everything."

* * *

"Oh, little mite!" Grazad clucked as she bounced Dera on her knee. In the course of a week, Grazad had become completely attached to his daughter. He and Rukhash were still sharing her cave, since they both had been too busy between their responsibilities to the tribe and their daughter to go perusing through the available dens, and Grazad did not seem in a hurry to kick them out. Apparently, she had grown fond of their company, and even more fond of their daughter, who was growing at a rate Cadoc could not believe.

Dera's quick development was a wonder. Cadoc had been amazed to find that his daughter could lift her head easily and roll around the den after just seven days. They had to keep her in a fur lined basket so she wouldn't roll out into the main cave when they weren't looking. And already she was clinging, a reflex that all young orclings possessed. Rukhash had been very relieved about that. She had recalled that Hallas did not cling, and she was worried she would have to keep Dera in a sling as she went about her chores. That had not been the case. Dera attached easily to her front and stayed there for hours, and Rukhash could gather what she needed and work as long as she liked and keep her young daughter with her. Dera was nursing every hour, and Rukhash didn't want to be far from her. It was important for a sprog to nurse off of their own mum for the first month when possible. It made them less prone to sickness.

Dera squealed and waved her chubby arms at the old healer bouncing her. "Who's a good li'l girl fer her old Granny Grazad?" the healer said, making a face.

Dera gurgled at her.

Grazad cast an affectionate look Cadoc's way. "This is the sweetest fuckin' mite I ever saw," she said. "Barely squalls're nothin'. I'm gonna swipe 'er when you'n Rukhash ain't lookin'."

"Don't you dare," Rukhash laughed from just outside Grazad's cave. "Me'n Cadoc went through a lotta trouble fer her." She dropped another tied bundle of dry stalks on the pallet of medicines they were packing for the Glokong tribe.

Grazad passed the girl off to her father before heading out of the den to check Rukhash's progress. "Go get Gaidurb'n Muhrgra ta drag this out. We'll start a new one." Nodding, Rukhash went to fetch Gaidurb.

Cadoc shook his head. "That is the fourth litter of supplies you have packed," he said, managing a squirming Dera in his arms. "How many more are there?"

"Bloody hell," Bhrafmor grumbled as she dropped a stack of firm,  _sharogil_  bricks on the ground. "There's a whole cave piled with shit fer them. We've been collectin' all summer!"

"We get just as much as we give," Grazad said haughtily. "An' they'll be here in a few hours. Dufkarn already went ta meet them, so step to it."

"Maybe if you helped…" Bhrafmor glared.

Cadoc handed Dera back to Grazad and took the rope at the end of the pallet in his hand. "I will pull this out," he said. "Perhaps you can conscript Gaidurb and Muhrgra to carry some of those soft bricks."

As he dragged the litter out of the main den, towards the tunnel leading outside, he heard Grazad coo, "Oh you! I'm gonna gnaw yer fat li'l cheeks!" Dera giggled.

Outside the den, three litters stacked with dried plants were being guarded by Sapatuk and Shaaraguk. They gave Cadoc a friendly wave as he pulled the load Rukhash had packed next to the three already there. Turgrat had taken a small contingent to check the eastern border, though it had been quiet since Dufkarn squashed a little scout party weeks ago. Ashplak seemed to think it was too quiet. Cadoc had to agree with the old goblin.

There were five other warriors with Dufkarn as he escorted this visiting tribe the rest of the way to the den. From what Cadoc understood, the Gundbaraashal Tribe had a distant but friendly relation with the Glokong Tribe based in trade. Neither would lend warriors to the others aid, but their border to the north was respected.

It was a few more hours of carrying before they had everything outside, and Cadoc found he was curious to see this foreign tribe. According to Muhrgra, they usually sent their uruk hai warriors with the trade. Which was probably why Rukhash had left Dera with Grazad and came to join him outside the main entrance. "Who knows," she grinned at him. "Maybe I'll know someone."

It was another hour before they caught sight of the approaching caravan. At the head, Cadoc spotted Dufkarn's familiar loping shadow. He was engrossed in what looked like a serious conversation with another large goblin that Cadoc didn't recognize, though he assumed he must be an important one of the Glokong Tribe members, to have Dufkarn's ear like he did. Though the shadowy eaves of the forest at night made them little more than dark shapes to Cadoc, Rukhash must have been able to see them perfectly, because she gasped and, without warning, broke into a dead sprint.

Next to him Sapatuk sputtered, "The fuck does she think she's doing?"

One moment, Dufkarn had been engrossed in a deep conversation with the Glokong Chief about their troublesome eastern neighbors, and the next moment, his new healer had bowled the visiting chief over, knocking him flat on his back. Straddling his waist, Rukhash wrapped her arms around his neck and would not let go. Dufkarn's voice was mute with horror.

Before he could give his healer a good smack for bad manners, the Glokong Chief angrily pried her off of his neck. For a moment, it looked as though he was going to start railing on her, and then, his pale eyes went wide and shimmering. "Rukhash?" he breathed.

"Dad!"


	59. Reunion

**Splint  
** **Chapter 59: Reunion**

* * *

When Dufkarn had taken out his warriors all those weeks ago, after Cadoc's discovery of foreign tracks on their land, he came across four of Hrat's boys trudging about on their property. They engaged in a brief battle with little more than scratches exchanged when the trespassers ducked and ran before they could finish them off. Dufkarn had not liked that one bit. It stank of a reconnaissance mission. Since then, Hrat's Ranmatûrz Tribe had been utterly quiet. Dufkarn liked that even less.

Just before the _glokfûsh_  hunt, Dufkarn had sent a runner north to request the Glokong Chief's presence with the next shipment. Every year, they managed to spare six Isengard uruk warriors to escort their trade, which meant they had a good number of lads back home to mind things. The Gundbarashal Tribe and the Glokong Tribe had been on decent terms for eight years now, and Dufkarn was of a mind to see if their chief was willing to make those terms a little better.

Dufkarn had met Gijakzi only a handful of times. The first time was when Gijakzi had called them out to start trading in the first place. Dufkarn had agreed, and Gijakzi escorted his tribe's healer to meet Grazad so they could discuss what was needed. That had been an uncomfortable conference. Apparently, the Glokong Chief had some history with the old girl, but he needed those plants more, and had put his grudge aside and hammered out a trade agreement with Dufkarn that night. The second and third times Dufkarn had met him were those first few swaps, when Gijakzi had come to check on what the Gundbarashal Tribe was giving him. Those had been brief, polite meetings. The uruks came to make the trade after that. Dufkarn had not laid eyes on the goblin in over five years.

He knew almost nothing about the Glokong Chief. He hadn't been part of the Mordor regimen, and Ashplak had never come across him in his many years serving in the Lugbúrz barracks. Dufkarn knew of a captain named Gijakzi, but he had been a monstrously large black uruk, not a Nûrn goblin. Grazad only knew him as the bloke who snuck into the breeding pits to check on his  _shaûk_  and daughter, way back when the tower was being rebuilt. After they died, and he nearly killed the hag, he had stopped sneaking down there. The old healer thought he may have worked in the forges because of the sulphurous stink on him, but Takhbork had never heard of him.

Gijakzi had a  _snaga_ 's lash marks, half covered under the steel plate that protected his left shoulder, but he certainly didn't carry himself like one. Dufkarn imagined he must have some swagger, to command a pack of haughty Isengarders, but Dufkarn had never dealt with that aspect of him. Their conversations had always been peppered with mutual respect. Gijakzi was willing to give it in the first place, when he asked to trade for plants instead of coming in to steal them, and Dufkarn was more than willing to give it back.

The Glokong chief had a grim, quiet way about him. During that first meeting, Gijakzi had been calm and rational, and the deal they struck was extremely forthright and fair, but that had been a trade agreement. When Dufkarn had seen the him loping alongside his Uruk caravan, he had been both relieved and anxious. What the Gundbarashal Tribe offered was a partnership that was much closer than trading, but now it was Dufkarn doing the asking, and Gijakzi would be in well within his rights to turn him down. This would be a strain on the Glokong Tribe's resources, and in the immediate future, would be more beneficial to the Gundbarashal.

Up until Rukhash decided to tackle him, Gijakzi had been listening to Dufkarn's description of Chief Hrat's troublemaking with quiet attention, but it was a passive sort of listening. The kind of listening you did when you were interested in the facts, but not invested in the outcome. Gijakzi's face had been utterly unreadable, just like every other time Dufkarn had met him, and he was very sure that the Glokong Chief had no interest in further strengthening their tribal bonds and lending warriors to assist Dufkarn with Hrat.

Now, the seemingly composed Glokong Chief, who commanded a troop of Isengard soldiers, was was flat on his back staring up at Dufkarn's new healer with an expression that could only be described as astonished. Gijakzi was staring at Rukhash as if she had appeared out of thin air and dropped directly on top of him. For her part, Rukhash looked just as affected. Her face was already streaked wet.

Gijakzi did not take his eyes off of her as he slid to sit up. With a quick, halted breath, he pulled her into his arms and embraced her fiercely. His pained, bewildered expression was the most unguarded Dufkarn had ever seen anyone. Then, the Glokong chief tucked his face against Rukhash's neck with a barely audible sob.

The War was over a decade behind them, and Dufkarn did not bother to spare those tumultuous years immediately after much thought, but there were many families and clans split and broken in the chaos that followed the Eye's demise. Even as a more calculating part of his brain saw an advantage here, a small, less recognized part of him was glad to witness this happy reunion.

With a tight sniff, Gijakzi pulled away from Rukhash and quickly wiped his eyes before cupping her face in his hands. She seemed completely unconcerned by the fact that her cheeks were shimmering and kept grinning at him like a happy idiot.

His pale eyes searched her face. "Where'd you come from?" he breathed, still affected by emotion.

Rukhash's happy smile morphed into a mischievous smirk. "Oi, da. Yer a bit old fer me ta go explainin' birds'n bees to ya."

With a snort, Gijakzi tapped her cheek. "Still got that smart mouth I see." She giggled at that. Releasing her face, the Glokong Chief rolled to his feet and Rukhash rose with him. With them both standing, she was a good few inches taller. Gijakzi scowled at her. "Taller'n me now, are ya."

"Ain't that hard, da."

"You sound like yer fucking  _mother_ ," he growled.

Dufkarn loudly cleared his throat to get their attention. "Didn't say yer dad were a chief, girl."

Rukhash blinked at him, then at Gijakzi. "Yer a  _chief_?" she gasped and, regaining her composure, smirked. "That's fancy."

"Shaddup, you."

Rukhash couldn't seem to stand still. She pulled her father into another embrace that Gijakzi bore far more stoically. "Arright, arright," he said, as she began to sniffle again. "Calm down, then, blighter."

Pulling away from him, Rukhash blubbered, "I just can't believe–"

She was interrupted by a loud thump as the mammoth Isengarder pulling a loaded cart dropped the front half to the ground and spread his arms wide. " _Rat!_ " he bellowed.

Upon seeing him, Rukhash made a noise unlike anything Dufkarn had heard in all his life. It was a kind of squealing, shrieking, scream. Almost like the sound a pig made when you stuck them through the belly, but at a pitch so high it could shatter glass. Rukhash ran straight for the uruk and leapt into his arms. " _Bogdish!_ " she cried happily before burying her face in his neck.

She was dwarfed by him. Dufkarn had never seen such a massive uruk. Holding her out by her armpits, the uruk began rocking her side to side like a sprog and Rukhash went completely limp, giggling hysterically as her limbs flailed of their own accord. She looked like a rag doll. Dufkarn glanced at Ashplak standing beside him, who shrugged, before turning to Gijakzi, who had an odd, quiet smile on his face.

"Who'sat?" Dufkarn queried.

"'At's 'er brother, Bogdish," Gijakzi supplied, and when Dufkarn raised a curious brow at him added, "He ain't mine."

"Ah," Dufkarn sighed with a nod.

"Fuck you!" a female uruk said, approaching Rukhash and her brother. "Where'd the Rat come from?"

Rukhash repeated that strange squealing shriek and leapt onto the female uruk, though she had not extended her arms to the young healer. "Bleedin' Eye!" the female hissed, trying to pry her off as Rukhash clung fast and began rubbing her cheek against the uruk girl's half-shaved head.

"I like yer hair!" Rukhash chirped and the uruk female gave up on trying to dislodge her, her arms hanging and a suffering expression on her face.

"That's 'er sis, Botarg," Gijakzi explained before Dufkarn could ask. "She ain't mine either."

At this point, Rukhash was nearly quivering with excitement. "I think I'm gonna pop!"

"Well don't pop on me!" Botarg growled, looking uneasy.

"You can pop on me!" Bogdish offered, extending his arms again. Rukhash jumped from her sister to her brother in one clean leap. By now, the other Uruk hai were approaching them and, in her excitement, Rukhash leapt to the next, nearest body.

This male frowned down at her. Rukhash frowned back. "I don't know you, do I?"

" _Nar_ ," he said flatly.

She hopped down from him and rushed back towards Gijakzi, jumping from foot to foot. "Who else, who else?"

"Who else what?" her father said with a confused look.

Rukhash made a frustrated gesture. "Who else is  _alive_."

The Glokong Chief's expression softened and he motioned with his hand. "Sit," he said, and Rukhash immediately folded her legs and fell into a cross legged position, her shimmering eyes focused on her father with all the attention of an adoring daughter. Nodding towards the uruks gathered around, he growled, "Go on. Git that shit to the den."

Gijakzi waited until the uruks, including Rukhash's siblings, were back to pulling the carts towards the Gundbarashal den before turning his attention back towards his daughter. "You ready?" he asked, gauging her curiously dry eyes.

She nodded.

"Yer Uncle Norgash."

"Uncle Norgash!" she gasped. "He sang the best drinking songs."

Gijakzi smiled. "'E still does," her father said. "Gruz," he added.

Rukhash snickered. "Still buggerin' ya, is 'e?"

"Every day," Gijakzi snorted. "Yer Aunty Kilrum."

"Oh," Rukhash started, looking guilty. "You know, I were never 'at close ta her."

"No?"

" _Nar_ , she were kinda a cunt."

"Well," Gijakzi scratched his chin thoughtfully, "she's still kinda a cunt, but I don't talk to 'er that much neither." He tilted his head, as if suddenly remembering something. "Yer little brother Zarkug made it," he said.

Her expression brightened. "He must be big by now!"

"That 'e is," Gijakzi confirmed. "Yer cousin Hekart's alive; got a kid'a her own."

Rukhash snickered. "Botarg's a  _granny_. I ain't lettin' 'er live that down."

"Yer ol' friend Hodha's around too."

Rukhash's face went two shades darker. "Is she?" she said in a small, shy voice and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Doin' alright?"

"Best as I know," her father confirmed with a smirk. His expression gentled as he regarded his daughter. There was a pause, as if he was preparing himself for her reaction to the next name he would speak.

"Yer mum."

"Mum?" Rukhash echoed and Gijakzi nodded. " _Oh_ ," she breathed and clutched her chest. Her eyes filled as though someone had poured a pitcher of water in them. "Mum's alive," she said, staring into nothing. Slowly, as that information registered, her face screwed up, tears fell down her cheeks and she began to emit a high, whining wail.

Sighing, Gijakzi pulled her against his chest. "Now, now, blighter," he soothed between her sobs. "Yer goin' through all the motions at once, I know it, but ain't no need fer that."

"Mum's  _alive_ ," she repeated and her father rubbed her back as she wept.

Gijakzi shook his head at Dufkarn. "I don't know where she gets this from," he mumbled as Rukhash continued to sob. "Not  _my_  side, I'll tell ya that."

"Shuddup, da," Rukhash mumbled into his chest, hugging him tighter. "I thought you was all  _dead_. I thought you was all bones at the bottom'a the Isen."

Gijakzi snorted. "It takes more'n a little leak ta kill yer old dad," he said.

Leaning back, Rukhash sucked all of the snot back into her nose in a great breath and furiously wiped her eyes. Her father smiled at her, ruffling her hair. "Finished are we?" She nodded and he helped her to her feet. He paused when he noticed the half covered symbol on her breastbone, and pulled the neckline of her tunic a little to the side to get a better look at her marks.

Blinking, Gijakzi stared at her. "How long've you been 'ere?" he said.

"All summer."

The Glokong chief raised a brow at Dufkarn. "You let 'em in quick, eh?"

"Only when they're as useful as that one," Dufkarn told him, relieved that this little scene seemed to be drawing to an end. "She's a fine healer."

Gijakzi blinked at his daughter again. "A healer? When'd you learn that?"

"In Lugbúrz," she informed him, straightening a little. "Grazad trained me. I kept up with it after the Fall."

The Glokong chief frowned. "Grazad," he said darkly.

Rukhash's eyes darted to Dufkarn and realization seemed to dawn on her. By now, she should have been aware as anyone why Dufkarn had requested the Glokong Chief's presence. "Oi,' she said. "Dufkarn here's a real stand up bloke, too."

"Is he?" Gijakzi replied, his tone flat.

"He sure is! An' he's a good chief too," Rukhash nodded emphatically, and Dufkarn stood a little taller, pleased with her praise. "He were real fair ta us when we showed up on 'is back porch."

Gijakzi's brows dipped down, nearly covering his eyes. "We?" he queried. "Who's  _we_?"

With his characteristic stealth, Cadoc had approached the reunion several minutes ago and was standing silently by a gnarled tree, an inscrutable expression on his face. Gijakzi had his back to him while Rukhash was leaping from sibling to sibling, though Dufkarn was surprised the goblin hadn't scented  _tark_  yet. The Gundbarashal Chief glanced at the ranger that had recently earned his tribe marks with a sense of heartfelt sympathy. Cadoc had the grim look of a bloke about to march into battle.

Rounding her father, Rukhash came to stand next to Cadoc, lacing her arm in his. Gijakzi followed her movements and, as Rukhash took hold of Cadoc, his face fell with horrified realization. "This here's my Cadoc," she said proudly lifting her chin. "We're  _shaûk._ "

There was a blinking moment as Gijakzi eyed the man standing next to his daughter. Cadoc offered the Glokong Chief a respectful nod. "Sir," he said, and Dufkarn picked up on the anxious edge in his tone.

Dropping to his knuckles, Gijakzi loped the several paces it took to bring him within arm reach of Cadoc. To the ranger's credit, he did not move a muscle. Standing to his full height – which put him at the height of Cadoc's chest – Gijakzi gave the man a suspicious once over. "Cadoc is it?' he growled. "'At a Dunlending name?"

"It is."

"Bloody irony," Gijakzi muttered under his breath. Rukhash's father narrowed his eyes. "Bit tall fer a Dunlander, ain't ya?"

"My grandmother was of Dunland," Cadoc explained. "I am named for her brother."

"What's the rest'a ya?"

"He's a  _tark_ ," Ashplak supplied. He had a cheeky grin going the whole time, but Dufkarn wasn't so sure that this was funny. They needed the Glokong Tribe's help, but Dufkarn wasn't about to let Gijakzi off one of his warriors because he didn't want the bloke fucking his daughter.

"A  _tark_ ," the Glokong Chief growled, his expression dark.

Cadoc met the goblin's resentful look with his own firm expression. "I  _am_  born of Gondor," he said. "Though I am not sure what bearing my nationality has on anything."

Gijakzi's pale eyes were livid slits. Rukhash clutched Cadoc's arm a little more tightly. "He's a good lad, da," she said, a desperate look on her face.

Gijakzi's attention flicked to Dufkarn. "Yer lettin'  _anyone_  in, are ya?"

"This bloke saved  _my_  daughter's life," Dufkarn told him sternly. "He earned his marks, that one. I'd appreciate it if ya didn't hold 'is blood against 'im. We find 'im sorta useful."

"I bet," Gijakzi grumbled. Thoughtfully, he sized Cadoc up again before casting a gentler look on his daughter. Turning towards Dufkarn, he said, "You were tellin' me 'bout that bastard Hrat. Maybe we should discuss 'at business somewhere more private. An' if yer keen on it," he added, glancing towards Rukhash, "I'd like ta have a sit with my girl after."

"Night's gettin' on," Dufkarn said, scratching his chest idly. "Why don't you an' yers take a load off today an' you could head out tomorrow. Give ya a little time with yer kid an' we can work things out otherwise. 'Sides, it looks like 'at brother'a hers probably would want a sit too."

An appreciative look passed over Gijakzi's face. Inviting a strange clan into your den was a gregarious move on Dufkarn's part, and something not usually done for a group you did not know well. His offer seemed to make an impression. "Sounds fair ta me," Gijakzi said. Ignoring Cadoc, he briefly brushed his knuckles along his daughter's jaw. "We'll chat in a bit."

With a pleased smile, she nodded, and Gijakzi moved to follow Dufkarn into the den.

Ashplak approached the pair of them and gave Cadoc a hearty slap on the back. "Well!" he said. "'At went well, didn't it?"

Cadoc glanced at Rukhash, who still had her arm laced in his. He gave her a brief kiss on the crown. "I am going to check on Dera," he said before gently untangling his arm from hers and heading towards the cave.

Rukhash and Ashplak exchanged a look. "I don't know what ta do," she admitted.

The old goblin raised a brow at her. "Don't look at  _me_ ," he told her. " _Yer_  the one what's fuckin' a  _tark_."

* * *

Dufkarn's personal den was situated on one of the higher levels and was the largest in the caverns. When she was still small, Nûtgroth had lived here with him and Turgrat, but once she was old enough to screw around, he had politely asked her to find her own spot. She was a good kid, and he liked having her near, but Nûtgroth did not have a steady bed partner and Dufkarn liked his privacy. He had so little of it for so long, that he felt he was well within his rights to have as much as he wanted now. Never mind fucking, it was a relief to simply  _sleep_  without a dozen blokes at your back.

Gijakzi eyed Dufkarn's den with lazy interest. There really wasn't much to look at. Dufkarn had never been much of a decorator, and Turgrat less so. There was a sleeping pallet in the far corner, a small hearth near the mouth, some furs for sitting, various teeth and skulls that would not fit on his  _vrasgirden_  or his sash had been strung together by Nûtgroth and hung on the wall. A few weapons were mounted neatly near his bed: his captain's scimitar, several different knives, and swords captured from blokes who had vied for his position as chief. His more used weapons were on his person, and Dufkarn divested himself of those, leaning his bow and quiver and long sword in the corner before and sat on one of the pelts near the low fire. Gijakzi had pulled his sword from his belt and sat across from Dufkarn, and the Gundbarashal Chief eyed the finely made weapon keenly. It's curved shape branded it as an orc sword by design. Though he could only see the hilt and leather sheath, Dufkarn could already tell it was of much finer craftsmanship than what was provided to the soldiers in the barracks. Gijakzi must have some fine swordsmiths working for him, or terrily good leather workers.

"I know we come up here ta talk business," Gijakzi said. "But I gotta know, what's up with the man. He treatin' my girl arright?"

A little taken aback, Dufkarn decided this was a good time to pay Cadoc back for rescuing Nûtgroth from the river that nearly drowned her. "I ain't never seen a lad take better care'a his girl," Dufkarn said, and wasn't exaggerating. "He fusses over her. You ain't got nothin' ta worry about there."

Gijakzi did not seem impressed. "He  _should_  fuss," he said. "He's 'er bleedin'  _shaûk_." The Glokong Chief huffed. "What is 'e; a raider or a bandit? Is 'at how she met 'im? He strike up with 'er ta cause trouble?"

A little startled by that question, Dufkarn rose to his feet and rifled through the pile of furs near his bed. He had not hung Cadoc's sword because he did not consider the man a conquered opponent. In fact, Dufkarn had been seriously considering giving it back to him, since it was far too long for Dufkarn to make use of it. He tossed the sheathed blade at Gijakzi, who snatched it mid air. Glancing at the silver tree on the leather, his eyes widened. "A  _ranger_?" he said, sounding less angry than Dufkarn would have expected. In fact, Gijakzi seemed somewhat amazed. "Bloody hell," he grumbled. "Her mother's gonna laugh 'erself ta death when I tell 'er."

"His folk call 'im a traitor now," Dufkarn explained. "It's why he buggered off ta Mordor with yer girl."

"Yea?" Gijakzi snorted. "Who'd he kill?"

"As I hear it, a bunch'a blokes lookin' ta off Rukhash," Dufkarn said. "Orc hunters."

A surprised expression widened the Glokong Chief's eyes, and he stared thoughtfully at the sword he held. "That right," he said quietly.

"They got a brat just born," Dufkarn said. Gijakzi glanced up at him. "Figure I'd warn you. She's sorta queer lookin', but Grazad says she seems fine."

"Eh," the Glokong chief rubbed his face. "Got some  _shara_  folk livin' with us. A small group. We 'ave a few  _baalak_  in the tribe too. First one I saw put me off a bit, but they're growin' pretty normal."

"How'd that happen?"

Gijakzi raised a brow at him. "The  _baalak_?"

" _Nar_ ," Dufkarn said. "The  _shara_."

"Ah," Gijakzi nodded. "They're a clan come down from a plantation further north. Had some kin what were pit bosses there, 'an when the  _tark_  soldiers come in ta free 'em, the folk on the lower rungs were lookin' ta pay 'em back fer rough treatment. Hanged a few of 'em an' the rest took off'n settled with us. Useful folk, them. They run trade fer us with the villages north'a the river. No one knows 'em there. Brought their beasts down with 'em too. Got a couple'a goat an' sheep herds, buncha pigs, fuckin' chickens…" He shook his head. "Seen animals kept by the tribes in the far east, the Rarmoz Mal folk, so I figured we have a try at it. Picked up the habit from  _their_   _shara_  neighbors, I guess, but it ain't bad practice. You can keep more folk on less territory with it."

"Hn," Dufkarn grunted. "So 'at's where all the shit you bring us comes from. Always figured you swiped it."

Gijakzi favored him with a dour look. "Raidin'," he huffed. "Fuckin' stupid, that. Like shittin' where ya eat. If ya make the stuff yerself, ya never have ta worry 'bout runnin' outta it. And," he added, "there's a few  _tark_ forts north'a the river. Just built a new one too close fer comfort. No sense in givin' 'em a reason ta march south, I say. We're a big tribe, but we ain't ready fer no whiteskin army. Not yet, anyhow."

"Bein' careful, eh?"

"You run raids?" Gijakzi asked darkly.

"Use'ta," Dufkarn admitted. "Lost a couple'a good lads, an' Grazad's plants were bringin' us in more. Didn't seem worth it, so I called it quits. Got enough ta worry about with fussy neighbors over east."

"So ya see my point, 'en?"

"'Course," Dufkarn said, sitting again. "No sense in bein' stupid 'bout things. Ain't near as many of us as there useta be, an' there ain't no Dark Lord around ta keep things civil between who's left. Gotta do that bit ourselves now, I suppose."

Gijakzi regarded him thoughtfully. "'At's wise thinkin'," he said. "So," he continued, his tone shifting to something more businesslike, "about Hrat."

"Gave us trouble a few years back," Dufkarn said. "Can't say I like what he's doin' now."

" _Nar_ ," the Glokong chief agreed. "I think yer right. I think it sounds like he's gearin' up for a big attack. You got a feel'a their numbers?"

"Last time he tried at it, there were about twenty of 'em. We took out 'bout half of 'em with far less loses'n they had. Ain't been long enough fer them ta have bred a bunch'a brats up fer it, but 'at don't mean he ain't trained more folk or managed some recruits from a smaller clan."

"He pushed the Bagaglok Tribe near to the sea,' Gijakzi said thoughtfully. "They had some'a the forest, an' he swiped it from 'em, lost 'em a good number too, from what I heard. Couple'a their folks left ta join us 'cause they weren't keen on the new chief. Hrat pulled that business last winter. Tried ta make a go at our territory in spring, but I had all the warriors piss on our border markers an' he had the good sense ta leave us alone once he had a whiff'a that. Ain't no way he's matchin' our numbers, not if he's workin' with the land he's got and strictly huntin.'"

Dufkarn frowned. "How many of ya're up there?"

Gijakzi smirked. "Like I said," he started, "pickin' up some mannish habits ain't the worst thing. We can feed a lot more on less land; raisin' our own beasts an doin a little farmin' and tradin'. Niinmurûk folk started doin' it too, an' they don't even have  _shara_  with 'em."

Dufkarn gave him a patient look.

"I got near five hundred what are strictly warriors," he admitted, and Dufkarn nearly choked. "'Bout two hundred what're hunters, but them numbers overlap. If I had everyone pick up a weapon what weren't a brat too young fer it, there'd be few shy of a thousand defending the tribe."

For a moment, Dufkarn could not speak. "No wonder ya need so many plants," he said dumbly.

"Iza makes good use of 'em," Gijakzi said with a shrug. "Her'n her granddaughter stretched what you gave us to the limit some years, when that Tiimûrzhorn Tribe was still makin' trouble, but they's long gone an' we've had some quiet seasons fer it. Part'a me wants ta pat the  _tarks_  on the back fer finishin' 'em off fer us, but they was stupid 'bout things. Got what was comin' to 'em."

"Well, 'at's fine 'en," Dufkarn nodded, still awestruck. The fact that Gijakzi had  _asked_  for those plants instead of taking them by force was a wonder, and Dufkarn had to ask him about it. "If there's so many'a you, why didn't ya just swipe what you needed from us. Why go through all the deals an' proper channels."

Gijakzi sniffed. "Ain't real neighborly, is it? You said it yerself, right? No Dark Lord around ta keep us stickin' together, so we've got ta do that bit ourselves. We go around killin' each other over some leaves an' we won't need no  _tarks_  ta do the work'a wipin' us out. We'll do that just fine ourselves. The Glokong Tribe'n the Niinmurûk Tribe're already  _Turuk-Nur_. I known their chief Mauhurûz for bloody ever. She were my late _shaûk_ 's older sis. Tough girl, that Mauhurûz."

"Only met 'er once're twice when we started tradin'," Dufkarn admitted. "But I got that impression."

"Smart, too," Gijakzi added. "They was able ta increase their numbers quite a bit since they started herdin'. Both'a us picked up a good clutch'a clans what were runnin' south when them  _tarks_  were offin' orc folk left'n right in the plains. Took a few years for things ta settle in, but between the two'a us, you folk got a sturdy fence between yer tribe an' them  _tark_  forts."

"We appreciate it," Dufkarn said, not knowing what else to say.

"But you folk 'ave the mountains," Gijakzi continued. "And it'd be smart ta secure them too. I'd be lyin' if I didn't tell ya I were a bit leery 'bout your proposal. No offense, Dufkarn, but I don't know ya well, an' our tribes hookin' up like 'at puts my folk out more'n yers."

"No offense taken," Dufkarn said, though he  _was_  a little offended. It wasn't as if he was some beggar looking for a handout. He just wanted to make his tribe stronger. "But give it a few years, an' I don't think you'll regret it. I can be a real reasonable bloke, an' you seem the same. There's probably plenty we could learn from each other."

Gijakzi nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough," he said. "You look like a lad with a good head on 'is shoulders. Can't say I wanna shake hands an' make nothin' permanent this minute, but I don't mind sparin' a few warriors ta help you out. Especially since my girl is here. Sorta makes us  _Turuk-Nur_  without the extra fuss, but we can talk about the finer points later. Let's get Hrat settled first."

"I'd prefer 'at too," Dufkarn agreed. "An' I'll make sure yer boys have a good spot here. Make 'em feel welcome."

"The girls too," Gijakzi said with a grin. "I'd probably send Botarg over ta lead 'em. She's been trainin' under my captain fer it, an' she done a fine job on the smaller missions she's had so far. She's a bloody beast in battle, let me tell you…"

"She looks it," Dufkarn admitted. "Her sis'll probably be keen on that."

"No doubt," Gijakzi agreed. "Hrat pulled his shit durin' the rainy season when he went after the Bagaglok Tribe. I'd guess he'd try the same here, thinkin' you don't chat with them much. Probably figures you folk wouldn't expect him when the rain is pourin' down. I'll send 'bout thirty warriors ta help out yer numbers. 'At should be enough. If it looks like you'll need more, you send a runner. Don't wanna keep too many folk holed up here if you don't need 'em."

" _Nar_ ," Dufkarn shook his head. "It'd make my lot uneasy, if yer lads outnumbered us."

"That's what I'm thinkin'."

"Well, it sounds like we have an agreement so far," Dufkarn said, feeling a little easier. Gijakzi certainly had a haughty edge to him, but he was being careful about things too, which was a relief in many ways. "Why don't you go enjoy yer girl. I'll make sure there's enough food put out fer you an' yers while you're at that."

"'At works fer me." Gijakzi stood, laced his fingers and stretched. "Where do I find 'er."

"She's in the back. Stayin' in Grazad's cave."

The Glokong Chief frowned.

* * *

After the Glokong Tribe's trade had been unloaded and the carts were repacked with various stinky plants, Bogdish had grabbed Botarg and went looking for Rukhash. The Gundbarashal Chief had given them permission to enter the dens, and with a few, polite inquiries he found her quickly.

She was sitting with her  _shaûk,_  a pair of goblins, a tiny goblin brat, and the oldest fucking orc Bogdish had ever seen. He assumed, from hearing about her, that this must be the infamous, much despised Grazad. Bogdish didn't think she looked all that dangerous, especially since she was waving a rattle of bones and beads, cooing at the mite in Rukhash's lap.

Said mite couldn't be more than a week old, grabbing and pulling, but not nearly as mobile as she would be a few months from now. She was a pale little thing, but not nearly as pale as her  _tark_ father. He had noticed Bogdish and Botarg approaching and his gentle expression went immediately hard and defensive. Bogdish hadn't stuck around to see what Gijakzi had said to the man, but it obviously put him on edge. Rukhash's brother was of a mind to change that. He had not seen his sister in over thirteen years, and Bogdish didn't have much of a beef with men in general. He didn't see why they shouldn't get along.

The five of them were sitting in a wide ring, and Bogdish flopped down in the space between the man and the goblin sitting with him. Botarg stood uncomfortably off to the side, scanning the foreign den.

Bogdish gave the man a hard slap on the back. "Hullo there, little brother!" he greeted cheerfully.

The man didn't seem to know what to say to that. "Hello,' he returned.

Turning towards his sister, Bogdish added, "Oi, sis."

Rukhash's cheeks were round and grinning. "Oi, you," she said. "Want me ta introduce ya 'round?"

"You know I do."

Still smiling, Rukhash started with the old gobliness at her left and went clockwise. "This here's Grazad," she said, "and Fiilmor and Takhbork and Gruk, and this is my Cadoc." She laid an affectionate hand on the man's shoulder. "Everyone, this is my brother Bogdish, an' that cranky bitch there's my sis Botarg."

Botarg gave the group a subtle glare and continued eyeing up the den.

"Don't mind Botarg," Bogdish said cheerfully, his eyes like little crescent moons. "She's always this friendly."

"Arsehole," Botarg muttered.

Gruk padded up to Bogdish, his eyes round and staring. He sat directly in front of the large Uruk hai and did not move a muscle for several, unblinking seconds. Bogdish stared back at him. "By the Hand's flaming arsehole," Bogdish swore. "That's creepy."

"I keep tellin' him ta stop," Takhbork growled. "Oi, you! Leave the bloke alone."

"Gruk," Fiilmor clucked, and the boy turned towards her. She fixed him with her own, unblinking stare and he went to sit in front of her. Takhbork shook his head, muttering something incoherent under his breath.

Bogdish's attention went to the baby in Rukhash's lap. Dera had grown bored with the rattle and was pulling at Rukhash's shirt. "Is'at my lil' niece?" he said.

"Yer hungry lil' niece," she said and bore her breast so Dera could eat.

Bogdish regarded his sister thoughtfully. "You know," he said. "Never figured you fer a mum." Rukhash raised a brow at him. "It suits you," he added softly and she smiled at him.

Cadoc had been watching him silently the whole time, and Bogdish threw an arm over his shoulder. "What's the matter, lil' brother? Skerd I'm gonna eat'cha?"

"Actually,' Cadoc said, raising the brow over his good eye, "that thought had  _not_  crossed my mind until you just mentioned it. Now I find myself somewhat concerned."

" _Hurr, hurr_ , no worries there," Bogdish chuckled, liking this man's sense of humor. "Don't care much fer manflesh myself. Mutton's tastier." Rukhash cleared her throat and Bogdish frowned. "What? What'd I say?"

"Still puttin' yer giant foot in yer mouth," Rukhash hissed.

Snorting, Bogdish waved his hand, clearing the air. "I's just makin' a bleedin' joke. Quit bein' so sensitive." Shaking her head in exasperation, Rukhash's attention returned to the infant nursing at her breast.

Grazad narrowed her blood red eyes at him. "You seem ta be takin' this easier'n how I heard her dad took it."

"Why wouldn't I?" Bogdish asked, glancing at Cadoc. "I've got a wife back home."

The goblins and his sister blinked at him, not quite understanding the significance of that statement. It was Cadoc, looking surprised but appreciative of the information, who spoke. "You have a  _wife_ ," he repeated. "A _mannish_  wife?"

"Yea, a lil' woman. Fine girl, my Esha." He pulled his  _vrasgirden_  out from his tunic. A heavy, silver ring dangled from the middle. "Ain't in the habit'a wearin rings, they can get stuck on shit in the forge, but we was hitched 'bout nine years ago." He glanced at his gaping sister. "You'd like her, I bet. First time we met, she clobbered me with 'er shepherd's crook."

His sister regained her composure. "Wonder why she did that…" Rukhash said dryly.

"He were bein' a nosing, thoughtless prick," Botarg informed from her place near the wall. "Fuckin' deserved it."

Bogdish rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Guess I did," he admitted. "But I had 'er laughin' later, so all were forgiven."

"You have a  _shaûk_  what's a  _tark_  too?" Takhbork asked, fascinated by the coincidence.

" _Nar, nar_ ," Bogdish shook his head. "Esha ain't no  _tark_. She's a  _shara_  girl from Nûrn. We ain't really  _shaûk_  neither. Haven't discussed goin' that far. At least, not a ton. I think it sorta confuses her. We's hitched the way her folks do it: married'n stuff. N' I dunno… you know… bein'  _shaûk_  means it's her before our kids, an' I really like our kids. We got two'a them, an' they're great fun, the little beasts."

"So…" Grazad said, sounding confused, "you're just mates."

Bogdish frowned. "'Just mates' sounds too casual," he said thoughtfully. "Like we only fuck on holidays're somethin'. We're married. At's somewhere in the middle."

A gentle expression passed over Cadoc's face. "You have two children?"

Bogdish nodded.

"You must be a fun dad," Rukhash said and smirked. "Yer wife must want ta bleedin' kill you half the time."

Bogdish grinned cheekily, but did not confirm or deny her statement.

"What about you, Botarg?" Rukhash asked, turning towards her sister. "Da said that yer girl Hekart made ya a granny. You give 'er any more brothers'r sisters?"

"I had enough bloody kids," Botarg growled. "The one I liked best lived. That's enough fer me. 'Sides," she added quietly. "I like bein' a granny. Get ta rile 'em up an' hand 'em back. It's easier'n worryin' over 'em."

"Yer too good lookin' ta be a granny," Rukhash said with a smirk.

Botarg glared. "Are you bein' cute?"

"Not a bit!" Rukhash said. "I really  _do_  like yer hair. It looks good in a warrior's cut."

Botarg's hair was shaved on the sides, leaving a row of spiky, black locks growing along the middle. Most Uruk hai soldiers cut their hair like this, in mimicry of their Angmar ancestors. Their nan's hair had grown in that pattern naturally. Bogdish ran his hand through his own streak of black hair. "Botarg  _is_  a warrior now," he said. "Took up with it when we arrived here. She's real good, sis. You should see her bleedin' fight. Uncle Norgash 'as been teachin' her."

"He were always real good," Rukhash said, eyeing her sister appreciatively. "I remember you followin' along when Krags would show stuff to 'is boys."

"Uncle Norgash's a better teacher'n  _krank_  ever was," she grumbled, looking uncomfortable. "I do arright with it. It's nice not ta be stuck in a den all the time."

"She's bleedin' modest," Bogdish gushed. "She's the best with a sword in the whole damn tribe. Better'n Norgash even. He already said so."

"Shaddup Bogdish," Botarg hissed. "Ain't no one's business what I can an' can't do."

"You said you was in a forge," Takhbork broke in, as if sensing the hostility on Botarg. "You a smith?"

Bogdish grinned ear to ear. "That I am," he said.

"No kiddin'?" Rukhash sounded pleased. "Guess all 'at time ya were hangin' around with me'n da taught ya a thing're three."

"I learned more from yer dad since we been here, an' from the other smiths too. There's a good number of us in the Glokong tribe."

"No offense," Fiilmor started, "but you don't look like no smith."

"No?"

"Sorta a big feller," she explained. "You look like the type ta be swingin' the weapons, not makin' 'em."

A distant, sad look crossed Bogdish's face. "Ain't real keen on battle," he said quietly. "It's different now'n it were back in Isengard, but it put me off'a the whole idea."

"You get buggered a lot?" Takhbork asked.

" _Nar_ ," Bogdish said. "I can take care'a myself wit' that. Just ain't real keen on killin' folk, I guess."

The goblins blinked at him, but Rukhash was not surprised by her brother's answer. Bogdish loved himself a good brawl, but he had never taken well to soldiering. It didn't suit his impish personality. Her brother might be a monster of an uruk, but he was a gentle monster of an uruk.

"I bet da's real keen on the work you do," she said.

"Fuck," Bogdish whispered. "Don't say that shit too loud. If Gijakzi thinks I'm gettin' a big head about it he'll tear me a new one. Still got his old pimaster's whip."

Rukhash rolled her eyes. "Dad ain't never laid a finger on you  _ever_."

"Not  _yet_ , but why risk it?"

"Big fucker like you is nervous 'bout Rukhash's father," Grazad snickered. "You're big as four'a him."

Botarg chuckled darkly. "He's chief for a reason, hag," she said. "I seen him take out an uruk near big as Bogdish for challenging his position. Gijakzi ain't a bloke ta fuck with. You don't live past one hundred'n fifty years by bein' a pushover."

"Yer scared'a him," Fiilmor ventured.

Botarg scowled at her. "Ain't no one  _scared_ 'a him," she clarified. "Gijakzi's a good chief, good at organizin' lotsa folk'n he thinks ahead. But he's still a tough old bastard." She glanced at Cadoc. " _I_  wouldn't want ta be on 'is bad side."

Rukhash frowned at her sister and laid a comforting hand on her  _shaûk_ 's tense shoulder. "Ain't no one on his bad side," she said. "He just don't know Cadoc so he's leery. If he ain't miffed at Bogdish fer bein' with a woman, 'en he can't be miffed at Cadoc neither."

"I actually rather expected this kind of reaction," Cadoc admitted, patting Rukhash's hand. Glancing at Bogdish, he added, "I am sure your wife's father gave you a difficult time as well."

Bogdish frowned. "Not really," he said. "Esha's dad is dead. Bunch'a pissed workers'n  _tark_  soldiers hung 'im."

"Oh…" Cadoc swallowed roughly. "I'm sorry."

"He weren't  _my_  dad," Bogdish shrugged. "Not that I ever knew who  _he_ was, but Esha gets real sensitive 'bout it. Her'n her family ain't too keen on  _tark_  folk themselves."

"I see," Cadoc said quietly.

"But anyhow," Bogdish continued, sensing Cadoc's unease. "Like Botarg said: ain't no one  _scared_  a Gijakzi. He's a good chief, real fair. Don't think you got nothin' ta worry about. He's just the suspicious sort." Glancing up, Bogdish's face brightened. Rukhash followed his line of sight and noticed her father was loping towards them. "Ain't that right, chief?" Bogdish called.

Gijakzi frowned as he approached. "Ain't what right?"

"Ain't no one's  _scared_ 'a you," he said.

Gijakzi's frown deepened. "They  _ain't_?" he replied with false astonishment. "I must be doin' my job wrong."

"I mean 'at we respect you."

"Do you? That's fuckin' horrifyin'. I'd hate ta see how you lot treat a bloke you  _don't_  respect." Gijakzi rounded the little circle and sat in the only seat available, directly next to Grazad. He gave the old healer a hard glare. "I'm gonna pretend like you ain't here," he growled. "Don't fuck up my fantasy."

"Dad!"

"It's fine," Grazad said, rising stiffly. "I'm gonna catch a nap afore dinner's up." The old orcess shuffled into her den and out of sight.

Rukhash thumped her father hard on the shoulder. "What'dya haveta go'n say that fer?"

Gijakzi rubbed his smarted shoulder and gave his daughter a wary look. "'At's fine fer you ta say,' he grumbled. "It weren't  _your_  daughter'n  _shaûk_  she butchered."

"You ain't the only one lost kin like that,' Rukhash growled.

" _Well_!" Gijakzi huffed. "That makes it better, then."

"She watched my arse in Lugbúrz," Rukhash said. "Taught me lots that helped me after too."

"Did she?" Gijakzi growled. "I'd like ta have a look at yer back, then. See how much she 'helped' you."

"Like you was so light with a whip!"

"An' if I ever meet the dad'sa the folk who took that shit," Gijakzi hissed, "I'd expect the same lip from them. If yer keen on 'er, that's yer own business. I bloody ain't." He ignored her indignant huff and turned towards Botarg. "Where's the other uruks?"

"Out front, waitin' on yer order," she said.

"You go an' tell 'em we're stayin' the day," he ordered. "And Botarg… you remind them lads 'at we're guests here. No cute shit, you got it?"

"Got it."

He turned towards Bogdish. "You go'n help."

"Aw…"

" _You go'n help_ ," Gijakzi growled. "Make sure our shit is secure before we post up. You got all night ta sit with yer sis."

Huffing, Bogdish stood and followed Botarg out. Takhbork exchanged an uneasy look with Fiilmore. "Well," Fiilmor said, rubbing a sleeping Gruk's back, "I should let my boy nap afore supper. Maybe take a load of myself." She glanced at Takhbork with a suggestive look. "Keen on keepin' me company?"

"Sounds good," Takhbork grinned and stood with her. He nodded respectfully at Gijakzi. "Nice meetin' ya, chief."

Gijakzi returned the nod. He waited until Takhbork and Fiilmor were across the cave before leaning towards his daughter. "Who was they?"

Rukhash rolled her eyes. "'At's Takhbork'n his  _shaûk_  Fiilmor. They's the tribe's smiths."

"Right," Gijakzi mumbled. He glanced at an uneasy looking Cadoc before setting his sights on the reddish little imp in Rukhash's lap. "Looks like yer ol' granddad chased everyone off," he said, winking at her. "Just how 'e likes it." Dera's nose was twitching a mile a minute, and his smile broadened. "Lookit 'er go," he said.

"You wanna hold 'er?"

"Course I wanna hold 'er," Gijakzi huffed. "She's my fucking  _granddaughter_."

Without pause, Rukhash passed her daughter to her father. Gijakzi lifted her into his arms with a pleased grin. "Ah, Rukhash," he rumbled. "She's got yer face to the letter. Fuck," he added softly, "if I don't bloody remember when you was this small."

Squirming, Dera took hold of her grandfather's breastplate and pulled herself up so they were face to face. Gijakzi supported under her arms out of old habit. "Smell familiar do I?" he asked her as she sniffed around his neck.

She made a grab for the bone poked through his nose and Gijakzi executed a clever maneuver that had her grasping at air. "They all go fer the bone," he muttered, and tilted his ear so she could grab at that. "I'd rather you pull my ear'n put a tear in my nose, blighter."

Dera cooed and waved her fist, losing her grasp on his long ear. She started making singsong warbling noises at him and Gijakzi settled her in his lap. "Yer a happy little thing. Not like yer mum. She bleedin' bitched up'n down."

"Oi!"

"Well, ya did. You grew outta it, but I though my ears would pop afore you settled." He regarded his granddaughter's grey eyes and leaned towards her. "I hear yer dad's a  _ranger_ ," he said conspiratorially.

Dera kept warbling and cooing, but Rukhash sensed Cadoc stiffen beside her. "It's fine," Gijakzi said, glancing up at the pair of them. "I ain't mad, so get those worried looks off yer faces. I feel better'n if he were some strange lad you picked up causin' trouble."

"I ain't never been inta that sorta trouble," Rukhash huffed.

"It's been thirteen years, my blighter," Gijakzi told her. "I ain't got no idea what you've been inta. Didn't even know you was a healer. We got a lot ta catch up on." He turned his attention towards Cadoc. "I were worried when I seen ya," he admitted. "All the whiteskins I ever known what thought they was orcs weren't the sort I'd want fer my girl. They like the fuckin' an' the fightin' but none'a the responsibility of bein' in a tribe. Though she mighta been taken in by a shifty bastard, like that grandfather'a hers." He paused and glanced at Rukhash, as if expecting her to argue that, but she didn't. "But  _tarks_ , proper  _tarks_ , well, they's a different lot; all high notions of honor an' the like. The sorta blokes that stare ya down when ya run 'em through. I mean, her mum's gonna piss 'erself when I tell 'er, but I feel a lot better with my girl hitched ta someone like 'at than someone like her granddad."

He glanced down at Dera. "Don't I blighter?" She gurgled at him.

"I appreciate you not holding it against me," Cadoc said, sounding relieved.

"Eh," Gijakzi shrugged. "Imagine I'll find all sortsa shit ta hold against ya, but that won't be one'a 'em."

Gijakzi passed his granddaughter back to Rukhash and stood. "I better see how everyone's makin' out," he admitted. "Dufkarn's plannin on hostin' us, so we'll have time ta talk more in a bit." He pointed from Rukhash to Cadoc. "I'd be interested ta see how you managed this."

Rukhash smiled at him. "I'd like ta know how you managed gettin' ta be chief," she said.

Gijakzi smiled at her. "It's a long story."

"Yea," Rukhash laughed. "Mine too."

* * *

**Translations**

_**shara:**_  men of  _non_  Numenorean descent. Refers to men not of Rohan or Gondor (Though, technically, men of Rohan would also be  _shara_ , orcs usually use this term for men that they have not met as enemies in battle.)

_**Turuk-Nur:**_  Sister tribes. (lit. "Kin Tribe") Refers to two tribes who have their own chief and social structure, but are bound by blood relations that cross tribes. They often lend warriors and supplies to help one another. This is done fairly rarely, and requires a great deal of trust between the chiefs of both tribes.


	60. Changed Times

**Splint**   
**Chapter 60: Changed Times**

_They had run for more than a day, the sun scorching down on them as they traversed the endless, green plains. Rohan was not a country of many hiding places, but they had managed to find a small copse of trees growing ruggedly from a cluster of boulders near a small stream. The uruks had already posted up. Norgash and the three soldiers with him were taking turns on watch, while the bulk of their party, females and young from the dens, huddled near the tall stones and slept. Leaving Gruz snoring, Gijakzi had wandered away from them, coming to sit near the edge of the tree cover. He stared at the narrow stream that glistened clear under the pale moon._

_After dragging himself and Gruz from the muddy water, he had searched the shoreline for hours, hoping beyond hope to find Rukhash. Gruz shivered and kept looking towards the imposing darkness of the forest, but they had washed a good ways downriver. Isengard was not even a blot in the distance. It was as they made their way back upstream that they became aware of the distant screams. Then, there were trees. Living nightmares that made Gijakzi's search take second precedent to preserving his own life._

_He had run. She was the last of his kin left in this world, but orcish instinct was bent towards self preservation above all other things, and even the pull of his own blood could not override that instinct. When he had come upon her mother, gathered with what remained of her clan, he expected to find his daughter among them, but Rukhash had not returned to the den before the water had come pouring in. She had been with him in the forge most of the morning, but Rukhash was at that infuriating age where she was distracted by the most minor of things. There was too much of a backlog for her to be chatting up his underlings, barely sharpening half a box of arrowheads in an hour. He had shooed her off before he could lose his patience with her._

_He should have kept her with him. He should have given her a quick cuff for holding things up, immediately made up with her afterwards, and had her at his side when the dam broke. Or he could have spared a little extra patience for his only, living offspring, and let her make crude jokes with Vratrug while he strung bows. What harm was it doing, really? Or he should have insisted she stay in the den that morning. It was selfish to keep her near him so often, and her clan had a good run at an escape route. She could have found a way out with her kin. He should have thought of a gentler way of seeing her out of the forge than the snappish order he had barked at her. His last words to his daughter should not have been, "Go bugger yer mum."_

_Gijakzi had lived a long life, and there were many things he wished he could have done differently, but none more than this. His vision blurred and he goblin smith clenched his teeth against the crushing weight of his grief. Somewhere in the back of his mind, The Eye was whispering, tugging him east, but Gijakzi ignored it. He had given The Eye enough._

_Soft footfalls startled him, and Gijakzi hurriedly wiped his face. Hegdash came to stand beside him, her feet bare, her only clothing a short, leather skirt and that ridiculous pelt that Kragolnauk had given her years ago; a length of white fur that she wore over her shoulder like a sash. Her red eyes stared dully into the horizon. She looked exhausted._

" _You should get some shut eye," he told her. "We gotta get movin' 'fore the sun's up. The Enemy'll have us by the balls if they catch us in the sun."_

_She sat next to him, drawing her knees to her chest, looking, suddenly, like the young uruk female that had propositioned him twelve years ago. There was so much history between them now. Gijakzi had forgotten how good looking she was. He always had a soft spot for tall, cocky bitches._

" _I ain't tired," she said after a sigh. "And the sun only buggers you miserable goblins."_

" _The sun'll bugger you well enough if a Rohirrim party catches ya under it," he snapped._

_She spared him the briefest glance – a blank look – before pressing her forehead to her palm. Then, Hegdash did something that Gijakzi had never seen her do. She started to cry._

_For a moment, he froze, unsure of what to do. Orcs were usually very choosey about who they broke down in front of, and Gijakzi wasn't sure if she had picked him to witness her grief for some unknown reason, or because the weight of it had finally pressed her too thin. Regardless, he found himself half rising, placing his arm over her broad shoulders. She turned and pressed her face into his neck, sobbing._

" _Go on, then," he said quietly, rubbing slow circles on her back, momentarily forgetting his own grief._

_She had just lost her shaûk. Rukhash had mentioned that Kragolnauk was mortally wounded at the fjord and died a few days later. And while Hegdash still had a few of her children with her, she was a mother and grandmother a many times over, and only five or six of her immediate family was with her. Before the flood, there had been dozens of females and many dozens of children that looked to her as their clan's den mother. Considering how many sons she had lost to the War, Gijakzi would have expected her to handle this in stride, with her usual, nonplussed bravado. This must have been a large blow to her so soon after losing her partner._

_Soon her quiet sobs dulled to nothing. She pulled away from him, not meeting his eyes, and wiped her face. Gijakzi subtly brushed the tears from his collar bone._

_Hegdash stared into the night, a concerned look on her face. "Can you hear it?" she asked._

" _Hear what?"_

" _The whispering," she said, her expression scrunching in annoyance._

" _Ah," Gijakzi sighed. "That's The Eye. Never noticed it before, I bet, with how that Wizard droned on."_

" _Nar," she admitted. "Was it always there?"_

" _Even before The Call, but it got loads worse when it were ready ta start the effort towards war. Callin' you east, ain't it?"_

_Hegdash's frown deepened. "Yes."_

_They were silent for a moment, listening to the indistinct whispers of their Master and knowing what was expected of them._

_Hegdash spoke first, "I'd go to the breeding pits, wouldn't I?"_

" _Most likely."_

_She turned towards him, anxious. "That's where you lost your shaûk," she stated. "And your first daughter." Gijakzi nodded. "You told me once that us Uruk hai girls had it easy in Isengard. What did you mean? What are the pits like?"_

_Now it was Gijakzi's turn to frown. "Yer kept alone," he said, remembering the state he had found Korklûb and Hinagir in when he had snuck a visit. "They have you breedin', poppin' out brats, 'til it kills ya."_

" _That's how mum was kept," Hegdash murmured. "They took 'er kids from her until the Uruk hai girls were breedin' fer themselves. Then she stayed in the den with us 'til dad…" Hegdash cleared her throat and shook off memories._

_She fixed Gijakzi with a frightened look. He had never seen such fear in her, like a caged animal. "I can't live like that, Gijakzi."_

" _I seen you in a tumble," Gijakzi said, stroking his chin. "You might be able ta get in a unit…"_

" _I can't live like that either."_

_He felt his eye twitch. "You ain't got much'a a choice either way," he said peevishly._

" _What if we don't go ta Mordor," she said, her tone earnest. "I mean, what if we don't go ta Mordor proper. What if we go ta Nûrn, to them cliffs by the sea you grew up on."_

_Blinking, Gijakzi regarded her warily. "I ain't never told you 'bout my homeland."_

" _You told Rukhash," Hegdash said, rolling her eyes. "She couldn't keep a secret from me if she tried. So," she urged, "what about it?"_

" _You wat ta desert?"_

_Hegdash nodded. Gijakzi couldn't believe she would suggest it. Worse, it almost sounded like a good idea._

" _I lost my shaûk," she pressed. "All'a my sons 'cept Zarkug an' all my daughters 'cept Botarg. Twelve kids, Gijakzi…"_

_He hesitated. One of those kids was his. "Rukhash might be there," he argued. "She'd feel the pull too."_

" _If she lived," Hegdash said calmly, "if she survived the trees an' the soldiers and is on her way ta Mordor, 'en she ain't alone. She's a good sprog, Gijakzi, but she's just a girl an' she ain't never been outside the tower. An' she's safe from the pits, yea? She's too young ta breed."_

_Gijakzi wasn't sure how he felt about all those ifs. "Don't you think… what about another one'a yers still bein' alive?"_

" _I can't know," she said, her voice sad. "But I got two kids an' a grandbaby what're here. I got my sister and cousins lookin' ta me. I can't lead them there. I can't walk 'em inta that place knowin' what'll happen ta us. We're kin. We got ta stick together. And Norgash'll do whatever I tell him, an' his lads'll do what he tells_ them _. He's their Captain. So, we'll have muscle with us."_

_Gijakzi never realized Hegdash was so steadfast towards her family, but it shouldn't have surprised him. For all his malicious madness, her father was the same way. "Yer brother'n his boys ain't gonna be much help once the War's done an' we're found out."_

" _We'll deal with that when it happens," she said. "Yer the smartest bloke I know. I'm sure you could outthink The Eye."_

" _Flattery won't get you nowhere wit' me," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You know that."_

" _I could always give you another –"_

" _Shut it!" he snapped, livid at the suggestion. "Bribery don't work neither."_

_She went quiet, staring furiously at the trickling stream. His insult cooling, Gijakzi's gaze drifted into the inky night. He could look for Rukhash forever and never find her. If she was alive, there was no telling what route she took or how fast she was moving, if she was with a group or on her own, and once he went to Mordor, he would be stuck. If she was dead, his servitude would be that much more bitter. In some ways, it was better not to know for sure._

_Years ago, he had watched Hegdash's mother turn her back on the Call and her family and walk into the north, never to return. The Voice of their master was an insistent pull, something that begged answering. It took a considerable amount of inner strength to move against it, even if you hated every hissing order in your ear. He had envied Bidush in that moment, her fortitude and self possession. Even if she did not survive the trip to Angmar, the fact that she had attempted it was astounding._

_Gijakzi didn't know if he had that kind of strength. Glancing sidelong at the female by his side, he realized that Hegdash did. He wondered if it was some trait inherited from her mother, or an odd side effect of her mannish heritage, and decided it didn't matter either way. Could he ignore it? Could he turn his feet in another direction and shrug off something that was etched into his soul?_

" _I dunno if I can do it," he admitted out loud._

_Hegdash gave him a dour look. "'Course you can, you stubborn prick," she huffed. "You can do anything you set yer mind to. Fuck 'im, I say. You've said it before: what's the bastard ever done fer us?"_

" _Nothin' but piled on misery," Gijakzi sneered._

" _Exactly," Hegdash sniffed. "So…"_

_Gijakzi regarded the mother of his daughter with no small amount of awe. She was doing this more for herself than for him, he knew that. If she went to the pits, all her work to become head girl would be worth nothing. What remained of her family would be scattered and she would be little better than a prisoner, but Gijakzi realized that he didn't want to see that happen to Hegdash. There was bad blood between them, but good blood too, and shared blood in their daughter, whether she lived or not._

" _Fuck 'im," he growled, feeling light with blasphemy. "But fuck you if you think I'm takin' orders from yer brother."_

" _Norgash is a good Captain, but he ain't the kind of leader we'll need," Hegdash said._

" _Ain't takin' orders from_ you _neither."_

" _I don't want ta be that sorta leader," she sniffed haughtily. "I've got my position." She gave him a serious look, her eyes glittering red in the night._

" _Lead us to Nûrn, Gijakzi."_

* * *

"I found mum an' the others by accident," Bogdish told his sister. "I were sorta squattin' in these ruins in South Gondor when they happened by. Pure luck, I guess." He had returned from helping with their cargo, and the Gundbarashal had passed out supper. Botarg seemed keen on staying outside, but Bogdish and Rukhash had a lot of catching up to do.

"No kiddin'," Rukhash agreed as she settled Dera front of her. Her tiny daughter immediately started rolling in a wide arc, ending at her father. Rukhash smiled as Cadoc scooped her up and she squeaked out a happy sound. "What were ya doin down there?"

"I sorta… left my unit," he admitted sheepishly.

Rukhash blinked at him, and for a moment could say nothing. It was years passed now, but just the thought of Bogdish doing something so stupid had her reeling. "Were you outta yer skull?" she scoffed. "They'da had yer head if you was caught."

" _Nar, nar,_ " Bogdish said. "Uglúk was on this big mission, goin' to fetch some  _golug_  weapon. He were too busy ta worry 'bout me. Asides, when we come up on the blokes what had it, they had these lil' half pints with 'em." A troubled look came over his face. "There were these two headin' inta a boat, and I coulda made a go fer 'em, I guess, but on the way we torched this village. There were these kids..." Rukhash's brother took a steadying breath before facing his sister. "They looked like a pair'a kids, you know? I didn't 'ave the heart ta do 'em like 'at, so I let 'em sail off and I ducked inta the bushes. When their pals went after the rest'a my unit, I snuck off an' found a place to lay low."

Cadoc stared at Bogdish, a gaping expression on his face. The tale of the ringbearer was well known in Gondor. He wondered if Bogdish realized how close he was to winning the War for his side.

"What?" the uruk queried.

Snapping his jaw shut, Cadoc fixed his brother-in-law with a smile. "Nothing," he said. "I am impressed by your...audacity."

Bogdish smiled cheekily at that.

Rukhash shook her head, exasperated. She was no more aware of the significance of her brother's story than Bogdish himself, but treason was a crime dealt with harshly in the Black Army. "You's lucky you weren't caught," she chided.

" _Gar_ ," Bogdish grumbled, batting the air, "it's long done now, yea? I don't need no lecture fer somethin' I done when I were thirteen."

Cadoc frowned as he juggled his daughter. "Thirteen?" he said, a little surprised. "They had you in ranks so young?"

"'Course they did," Bogdish huffed. "An' I were a big lad fer my age, so they sent me up to the barracks ta train the year afore. Put me in Uglúk's group 'cause I kept sneaking back down ta the den. 'At weren't really allowed when a bloke was trainin'. Guess they thought the old fuck'd whip me inta shape."

The ranger raised a brow at him. "Did he?"

"He whipped me inta hatin' him," Bogdish frowned. "The uppity bastard. Used ta go on an' on 'bout how easy us young lads had it, the prick. Like fifty fuckers sharin' one shit bucket for no damn reason were a bleedin' holiday. Weren't no shortages of buckets in Isengard. They coulda spared one're two more fer the barracks."

"They's tryin' ta toughen you up, Ms. Prim," his sister argued.

"Well that's fine fer you ta say!" her brother grumbled. "You got ta stay in the den, where mum'n the girls kept things tidy. There were blokes that bloody loved it too, the queer bastards. Used ta say the same damn thing. 'It's makin' us tough,' they'd say. Stupid pricks! Ain't nothin' that filth does but make a fucker sick. Two'a them idiots died in the first three months'a trainin', an' good riddance to stupid twats."

Cadoc was beginning to develop a real appreciation for Rukhash's bother. She scoffed at him and shook her head, but the ranger thought the War might have gone much differently if more orcish soldiers were like Bogdish.

He was a loquacious fellow. Bogdish seemed keen on talking about any topic he could think of, with no worry about the consequences. Proving that point, he suddenly looked expectantly at Cadoc and said, "I don't suppose you was there when Sharkey bit it?"

Cadoc blinked at him. "No," he admitted. "I was in Gondor at the time."

"I woulda loved ta see the look on that fucker's face when he had his," Bogdish sighed wistfully.

Gijakzi was still outside with Botarg, but not far from where Rukhash sat with her  _shaûk_ and brother, the six uruks that had arrived with her father and siblings had situated themselves in a quiet corner, eating the portion doled out to them and quietly observing the den. They must have been eavesdropping on the conversation as well, because one of the elder soldiers – a tall, thin-built male with a scar across his nose and another old wound on his skull stapled together – turned towards them, a brow raised. He was the same uruk hai that Rukhash had mistakenly embraced earlier.

"He ever get done in?" the uruk asked.

Cadoc had not been introduced to the rest of the group, but they seemed unconcerned with him. The uruk's scarred face seemed benign, but there was something unnamed emotion underneath that expression that put Cadoc on edge. Still, he couldn't blame the uruk's curiosity as to the final fate of his former master. "He did," Cadoc said. "One of his servants stabbed him in the back."

The uruk chuckled low in his chest. "That's fine, then," he smiled, revealing two teeth missing between his large, lower canines. "An orc?"

"I'm afraid not," the ranger replied. "It was a man of Rohan that followed him. Grima, I believe his name was."

Another uruk next to the first spat. "Grima the worm," he growled. "He  _would_  stab a bloke in the back, bloody prick."

The four other males with them were young, probably younger than Rukhash. They cast confused looks at their elders, and then, at each other. "Whossat, 'en?" one of them asked.

"No one ta worry about," The first uruk grumbled. He turned again towards Cadoc. "So that's how Sharkey had it, is it? Out with a whimper. Figures, it does. Not like the Eye. He took out a whole tower when he went."

"I remember," Cadoc said quietly.

"You were there for it?"

Glancing anxiously at Rukhash, the ranger gave the uruk an apologetic look. "I think, perhaps, the War is a topic that is better left to rest," he said.

The uruk's eyes flicked briefly to Dera in his lap and Rukhash at his side. "You picked an odd partner fer avoidin' unpleasant topics."

"The past's done," Rukhash said, laying a hand on Cadoc's knee. "Ain't no need ta harp on things what happened years ago. Ain't like any of us  _started_  the bloody War. If Cadoc don't want ta talk about it, an' he ain't got ta!"

"Easy there, lil' sis," the second, unnamed uruk said, raising his palm in mocking appeasement. "Srigzhut don't mean no harm by it. Ain't many'a us old soldiers left. Can't say I ain't curious 'bout talkin' ta one from the other side." He nodded towards his compatriot. "We use'ta have a tally goin'. So, don't feel too bad about whatever you had ta do."

When it came to his service during the War, Cadoc honestly had no regrets with regard to his actions. "I don't," he said, not liking either of these uruks. The hair on the back of his neck started to stand on end. They gave him a bad feeling.

Srigzhut laughed, slapping his knee. "So, what were your numbers then? You can count the men too, if you like. There were a mess a them dark skinned southerners in Barad'dur, as I recall."

Cadoc frowned. Not only had he  _not_  counted the individuals he had slain – man  _or_  orc – he also had no desire to enter into some kind of contest with these uruks. "I don't know."

"That many, eh?"

Takhbork and Fiilmor were close by. They had taken their supper near the entrance of Grazad's cave to keep the old woman company. She hadn't wanted to come face to face with Gijakzi again, and thought it safer to stay in her den while the Glokong chief visited. Cadoc's goblin friends seemed intent to stay out of the conversation, but Cadoc noticed Takhbork's ear tilt back, listening.

"I saw no point in keeping track," Cadoc said.

Something malicious crept into Srigzhut's expression as he turned towards his comrade. "Well, Urjat, he probably has us  _both_  beat," he snickered.

One of the younger uruks glanced about, noticing, in the same moment as Cadoc, that several of the local goblins were now invested in this conversation. He turned towards his elders, growling. "The chief said not to cause trouble," he hissed.

"Shut it, brat," Srigzhut barked. "No one asked you to butt in. Asides," he added, grinning at Cadoc, "I ain't causing no trouble. I just asked a question."

Dera had dozed in his lap, and Cadoc saw a good opportunity to extract himself from this conversation. He stood wordlessly and carried Dera the several feet back to Grazad's cave. Rukhash gave both males a heated look and followed after.

Bogdish glared furiously. "You couldn't just let it sit…"

" _You_  was the one talkin' 'bout Sharkey," Urjat noted.

"That ain't the same as comparin' body counts!" Bogdish hissed, annoyed with the pair of soldiers. Urjat was a lackey, but Srigzhut couldn't do anything but be a prick. Bogdish wondered why Norgash hadn't offed him years ago for insubordination.

"Not like you got much to compare, you bloody deserter," Srigzhut scoffed. "Makin' friendly with a bleedin' Ranger. I don't care if she's Gijakzi's daughter, yer sister's fucked in the head."

A warning growl rumbled in Bogdish's chest. "You  _shut up_  about my sister…"

"Which one?" Srigzhut sneered. "The rat that fucks  _tarks_  or the pissy cunt that likes ta play with swords. Ya need ta be specific."

Bogdish smiled cruelly. "Yer just pissed 'at Botarg outranks you," he said confidently.

That hit a nerve. Snarling, Srigzhut leaned forward. "That's favoritism, that is. Her uncle's the bloody General an 'er mums head girl. She ain't got the balls fer her position."

Any amusement Urjat had been gleaning from making the ranger uncomfortable had evaporated with the turn the conversation had taken. "Oi," he grumbled. "Lay off Botarg. She's a good captain."

"That bitch ain't no captain!" Srigzhut hissed. "Zashrat was our fucking captain, you turncoat."

"Zashrat was an arsehole," one of the younger uruks piped up. "That's why his teeth're on Gijakzi's sash."

That had Srigzhut on his feet, and the rest of the Uruk hai followed suit, Bogdish included. They stood in a wide circle engaged in a furious glaring contest that Srigzhut was woefully outnumbered in. They were growling, ready for a tumble; not quite prepared to go against their orders not to fight, but feeling justified in who they were defending. Gijakzi's insistence that they behave themselves was, at the moment, saving Srigzhut from a pounding.

* * *

Inside Grazad's cave, Rukhash was trying to sooth Cadoc's ruffled feathers. "They's just pokin' at you, Cadoc," she said as he tucked Dera into her basket. "If they known you fer more'n a second, 'n they'd know what a decent bloke you are."

He kissed his  _shaûk_  briefly on the brow. "Thank you," Cadoc said. "But I feel as though I have been tested quite enough, and the War is a subject I would rather not discuss. It can only dredge up hurt feelings to speak of it in detail."

Grazad shifted on her pallet and quietly cleared her throat. "We all done what we had ta do," she said gently. "Ain't no one here what'll hold it against you fer playin' the cards you was dealt. Not no more. Yer tribe, lad. You don't got ta worry about them uruks topplin' all yer hard work. Everyone here knows they can trust you."

Cadoc offered the old orcess a smile. "I appreciate your vote of confidence, Grazad," he said.

The old healer waved her hand through the air. "Count on a pack of uruks ta cause a scene," she scoffed. She fixed her gaze on Rukhash. "Least that brother'a yers seems ta be a good hearted lad."

"He is," Rukhash agreed.

"Uh… Rukhash?" Takhbork broke in. "There's… sorta some trouble goin' on out here."

Exchanging a curious look with Cadoc, Rukhash picked her way to the mouth of the cave and peered outside. Her brother and the other uruks were locked in what appeared to be the tense stand off just before a brawl. The rest of the tribe had given the uruks a wide berth, staring at their guests with amused expressions. Ranmor idly gnawed a bone while Dufkarn watched with interest, one brow raised and the ghost of a smirk on his face. Ashplak looked so pleased, Rukhash was surprised he hadn't pissed himself like an excited dog.

"Looks like they plan on puttin' on a show fer us," Fiilmor said idly, clutching Gruk to her lap so he couldn't wander too close to the monstrous orcs in the corner of the cavern..

Cadoc grabbed Rukhash's arm before she could attempt to break it up. "It is not Bogdish who is outnumbered," he said. Rukhash looked back towards the pack of Isengarders and realized they were beginning to encircle the bastard that had put Cadoc on the spot. Her whole posture immediately relaxed into that of an interested spectator. She wouldn't mind seeing Srigzhut get knocked in the gob a few times.

That cathartic progression of events was not meant to be. Gijakzi came galloping in from the main entrance, Botarg striding behind, and inserted himself in the middle of the pack with a snarl. "I turn my back for five bloody seconds!" he hissed, and fixed his attention on Srigzhut. "What'd you do?"

"Why do you think this is  _my fault_?"

The Glokong chief pointed an accusing claw at him. "Cause  _you're_  why we can't have nice things! What'd you do ta get the lads riled up?"

"He were talkin' shit on the captain," one of the younger uruks accused.

"Little  _snitch_!"

Gijakzi stood his full height. Though he barely reached Srigzhut's collar bone, the Uruk hai warrior backed up a pace. "You sleep outside tonight, Srigzhut. Keep givin' me that dirty look, and I'm gonna have Bogdish sleep out there with ya. You know how cranky he gets when he sleeps outdoors."

" _Real_  cranky," Bogdish confirmed, glaring hotly at the smaller uruk.

There was a moment of indignant hate on Srigzhut's face before he turned on his heel and stormed towards the exit, sparing Botarg a heated stare as he passed her. She leveled him with a dispassionate look, her mouth firm, but her ears pinned back angrily. This wasn't the first she heard of his moody bitching. If Srigzhut needed a throttling to remember his place, Botarg would be happy to oblige him, but he left without protest.

Dropping to his knuckles, Gijakzi shook his head at her as she approached the rest of the group. "We can't fuckin' bring him  _anywhere_ ," the chief grumbled.

Botarg chuckled quietly, a rare smile on her face. "He's a bloody coward, that one. All words an' nothin' ta back it up. I wish he  _would_  challenge me."

Appearing from nowhere, Ashplak sauntered up to them, Dufkarn immediately behind him. "Every unit's got  _one_  of 'em," the old goblin grinned. "Mine had  _three_. Good fer a laugh until they ain't."

"He's creepin' in on 'ain't," Gijakzi muttered, glaring in the direction of the exit. He turned his attention back towards Dufkarn. "Weren't lookin' ta give yer folks a match tonight."

" _Garn_ ," the Gundbarashal chief drawled. "Ain't an issue. Kinda sorry you broke it up. Haven't had a solid gang up like that here in a long while."

"Eh, it'd cause bad feelin's back home," Gijakzi grumbled. "Better to avoid it."

"Fair enough," Dufkarn shrugged. "Saved a portion for you an' yer captain," he nodded obligingly at Botarg.

"That's mighty hospitable," Gijakzi said before glancing back at the uruks standing behind him with a pointed look. "An' these lads're goin' back ta mindin' themselves."

There was a moment of awkward shuffling before the Uruk hai took their former seats. Rukhash slipped out of Grazad's den, and joined her father and sister as they made their way towards the chief's perch, where Muhrgra, his daughters, Gaidurb and Nûtgroth were already gathered. Normally, she wouldn't have approached the chief's boulder, but she wanted to stay by her father. He had been here a few hours and Rukhash felt as though she had barely seen him. With Dera down for a nap, now seemed like a good time to have a sit.

Glancing behind, she realized Cadoc was not following her. He offered a strained smile before retreating back into the den, most likely to sit near their daughter. As they approached the series of rocks where Dufkarn usually ate with the orcs he trusted most, Rukhash realized she had never stepped foot in this section of the den. There were some unspoken rules in orcish tribes, and these boulders belonged to Dufkarn. His quarters were immediately above them.

She supposed this was a formality her father had to engage in. He was a visiting chief, and here on business. He couldn't forgo good manners to sit with her in the back, and she imagined Dufkarn still had plenty to discuss with him. Botarg climbed the series of small rocks that formed a stair to the top. Rukhash hesitated a moment before following her sister.

As they took their seats, Gijakzi next to Dufkarn and Botarg next to her father, Rukhash realized she had no right to wedge between her father and one of his captains. Respecting her sister's position, Rukhash sat on the other side of Botarg, half off the rock, one leg dangling from the edge.

Ashplak passed a matt covered in various goat parts to Gijakzi, and another to Botarg. They sat the mats in their laps and began to eat. The old goblin paused briefly by Rukhash, an amused expression on his face. "Climbin' a few rungs tonight, eh little mother?"

"I'll leave if you want me to, old codger," she said.

He chuckled with good humor and patted her calf. "Just don't expect an extra cut 'cause you found a better seat." She shook her head, and Ashplak took his usual place next to Turgrat.

Botarg regarded her curiously as she chewed. "When'd you get so respectful?"

"What?" Rukhash grumbled, insulted. "I were  _always_  respectful."

Botarg made a face and went back to eating.

Tilting her ear towards her father, and finding him engaged in a deep conversation with Dufkarn about Hrat, Rukhash leaned her head back against the stony wall, glancing sidelong. This really was a well placed perch. She could see the whole den laid out before her, and realized why Dufkarn had chosen this spot as his. As the chiefs rambled on, Rukhash realized that Ranmor had her own little stage, a slab of stone set up higher than most of the floor where she congregated with her daughter and favorite girls while the sprogs crawled about them. From her perspective near Grazad's cave, Rukhash hadn't noticed its purposeful placement before, diagonal from Dufkarn's spot and nearly as high.

Dufkarn and her dad and the warriors were engrossed in a lengthy discussion about strategy, the brief tiff among the Uruk hai easily forgotten. Even Botarg chimed in from time to time. Rukhash caught Ranmor's eye, and the head female gave her a knowing smile. Technically, Ranmor was afforded a spot near the chief, being den mother. Rukhash understood why she didn't bother taking it.

Takhbork, Hurug and Cadoc were playing a game of bones with her brother and the four younger uruk warriors, and Rukhash wondered if there was a way to gracefully slip away. Maybe she could roll off this edge to the floor and no one would be offended that she turned down a seat at the chief's table.

She dozed a little instead. They had done a lot of running around earlier, preparing the Glokong tribe's order, and she had woken in the late afternoon to help Cadoc with his snares and catch a few minutes alone, watching the sunset. Her long evening was starting to catch up with her. She had not realized that she properly fell asleep until her father shook her foot.

"Bored ya, did we?" he said with a smirk.

Rubbing her eyes, Rukhash glanced around and realized that most of the tribe had retired to their respective dens. Cadoc and her brother were in the back, still playing bones, staring at the board as though they could divine the game's outcome; but the other uruks were piled in a heap of blankets in the back.

"It ain't nothin' 'at concerns me," she told her father with a small smile. "'Sides, I needed a quick nap."

"Well, now we got some time for ourselves," Gijakzi said. "Let's see how deep in the hole yer brother is."

"We're probably gonna owe yer  _shaûk_  a bloody herd'a sheep," Botarg muttered.

Bogdish was just finishing up a roll, his eyes on the dice as though he might use them to fix the numbers. It was a low set. It seemed as though her brother never did figure out the finer rules of bones. When Cadoc took his turn, Rukhash was surprised to notice that he didn't switch the dice out. His cheating dice had a small, almost indiscernible scratch that Ashplak had caused when he caught Cadoc in a cheat. It was customary to throw your opponent's cheating dice if you caught them at it. Cadoc was not swindling her brother. He obviously realized that Bogdish had no cheating pair of his own, and was playing a fair game. Rukhash smiled quietly to herself; a familiar, fond feeling in her chest.

"What do you owe 'im," Botarg asked in a smirking tone.

Bogdish snuffed. "Don't owe 'im nothin'. We're palyin' fer fun."

"Ain't that sportin'..."

"Fuck's sake, you two," Gijakzi grumbled. "I can't handle all this sibling bickerin'. Settle down or take it outside with Srigzhut."

Bogdish looked from Rukhash to Gijakzi. "You wanna sit with 'er alone?"

"I'd like to."

Nodding, Bogdish turned towards Cadoc, motioning at the mat. "Mind if we use this fer a bit?"

"Not at all," the ranger confirmed.

Snatching the mat and dice in his large palm, Bogdish rose and put an arm around his sister's shoulders. "C'mon sis," he said. "We ain't played a round in forever."

Botarg's reply drifted towrds them as Bogdish led her to the far corner where the other uruks slept, "That's cause you're awful at it."

Rukhash sat herself next to Cadoc. Her  _shaûk_  took one look at her father and patted her thigh. "Dera will be up soon," he said quietly. "Ill go sit with her."

"You can stay…" she began to argue.

He kissed her quickly on the crown and stood. "Sit with your father," he said and vanished into Grazad's den.

Her dad looked mighty pleased with himself. Rukhash spared him an exasperated look. "Why you always got ta do that?"

"Do what?"

"Scare everyone off," she said.

He smirked at her briefly, and then his face fell into a serious expression. "I don't get a minute with the kid I ain't seen in more'n ten years?"

"Course you do…"

"'Cause right now, I'm thinkin' 'at that man'a yers is a mighty thoughtful bloke. Don't ruin that good impression."

"Cadoc," Rukhash corrected.

"What?"

"His name's Cadoc, dad."

Leaning back, Gijakzi regarded her thoughtfully. "Cadoc," he repeated in a soft tone. "I didn't mean no offense, blighter."

"I know," she said. "But he were always correctin' folk when they went around callin' me 'his orc'. An' I can't say I'm real keen when folks call 'im 'my man'. He's his own person."

"Yer real keen on him, ain't ya?"

She breathed a laugh. "Just a bit," she said. "We're  _shaûk_ , after all."

An odd look flickered over her father's face. "So you've said," he stated quietly. "You gonna tell me how you two met?"

"Well," Rukhash hesitated, "I'd have ta go a little further back'n our meetin'..."

Her father listened in silence, his calloused fingers wrapped around his chin and half covering his mouth, his eyes dry but sad, as she told him of the clan she ran north with, and of the black uruk that became her first _shaûk_ ; of the grandchildren he would never meet and the day she lost them; of that first winter alone, before she learned to hunt, when she nearly starved to death; and the second winter when she avoided the jaws of a troll and found her cave. She told him of the ranger she found, half dead on the side of her mountain, after years of maddening isolation; and of the camaraderie that started between them. Her father's expression became lighter as she told him about Edda, and her earnest welcome into Cadoc's family; of Elador who she worked besides around the farm; of Guthwen who taught her how to crochet; of Morwen and Wulf who befriended her, and of little Hallas, who was the sweetest sprog next to her Dera. She told him about Magistrate Halbard's fairness, and Hedon's awkward acceptance of her.

Her father was still silent as she went on to describe her affair with Cadoc, and her discovery of Baladnor, the wounded man that helped to slay her kin. Gijakzi's face grew grim when she spoke of her imprisonment, her anguish there and her realization that she cared more for Cadoc than she expected. She told him about the orc hunters that nearly killed her after her release, the rescue by Magistrate Halbard and his men and Baladnor's warning that saved her life. She told him about the night she and Cadoc pledged themselves to one another, and of the day that she decided to spare Baladnor's life. Her father did not speak as she described handing the poison antidote to the man that made her a motherless widow, but his brow was drawn in confusion, as though he could not comprehend her actions.

She told the tale of their flight across Gondor, Hedon's assistance and of Dellon and the men that hunted them. Of Thraangzi, she said nothing, only that two orcs had captured them and she was forced to slay them to save Cadoc. Rukhash would not lie outright to her father, but she could not discuss that night with her other siblings so near, with her mother still alive... She quickly brushed that leg of their journey aside and told her father about Cadoc's boss and the rangers that assisted them when Cadoc was injured. She did not glaze over the awkward interactions between her and Cadoc's friends, or the friendship she struck with Hedon, or her indecision when Cadoc debated going to the White City, and her father nodded quietly.

"In the end, we decided ta keep goin'," she said. "When we happened on Dufkarn's back door an' they caught us, Grazad spoke fer us, and we been here since. Cadoc's had ta really prove 'imself, but folks here can see in 'im what I do now. He's a good lad."

Gijakzi leaned back, his breath escaping in a sigh. "You've been through it,' he admitted, regarding his daughter as if he was seeing her for the first time.

"Now you know all there is ta tell," she said, "and you ain't said a word 'bout how you become chief."

He snorted. "It's yer mum's bloody fault," he said, his eyes distant. "Can't say I ever planned on bein' a chief. Lotsa folk ta worry about an they all got different concerns."

"You like it," she said with a small smile.

The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement, but Gijakzi did not smile outright. "I like not takin' orders,' he admitted. "An' me an' yer mum… we sorta had this idea some years back, a little while after we ditched ranks and came ta Nûrn."

Rukhash blinked at him, surprised. "You never answered the call east?" she said, shocked.

Gijakzi shook his head. "I couldn't do that to yer mum, not after she asked me tak show her the way here." he gave Rukhash an apologetic look. "If I'd known you was alive blighter…"

She shook her head. "Don't worry 'bout it, dad. There weren't no way ta know. I wish I'd thought ta go east instead of north after the tower fell, but here we are an' it don't matter. Things worked out in the long run."

"Guess they did," Gijakzi admitted.

"So," Rukhash said expectantly, "you an' mum had this idea…"

Gijakzi snapped himself to the present. "Right, well, there were 'bout a dozen of us holed up in them cliffs. We was barely there a week when we felt it, you know, when the Eye bit it."

She shook her head. "All the way down here?"

Her father nodded grimly and continued his tale. "That's when all these folks come pourin' east, headin' through the plains. Some were folks passin' through, an' other were folks lookin' ta settle. Some'a them folks were _shara_  with their livestock. It were yer mum who talked me outta bein' hasty, thinkin' they might be useful. Then I remembered, back when I was a lad, I traveled east ta apprentice to a Rarmoz Mal smith. The uruks out there got a little man in their blood, what with all the  _shara_  neighbors they got. They use'ta keep animals too, you know. They could feed dozens of folks on barely any territory."

"Folks were pourin' inta our territory, and it were yer mum suggestin' we let them stay ta build our numbers. They was some warriors, but mostly families. You know, she always could get a good read on folk, yer mum. Sort creepy, that. Like, she can look someone up an' down an' know if they're trustworthy. I come ta trust her say so when it come ta folks. Instead'a killin' the  _shara_ , we let them in too. That's when me an' your mum had a sit an' came to a decision."

Rukhash stared at her father, fascinated. "We decided it was worth it ta pick up a few mannish habits. We had too many miners fer the small mine we got, so I reassigned some folk ta help with the farmin' an the animals. Them  _shara_  taught us how ta weave our own cloth an' raise our own food, an' we showed 'em about forgin' steel an' buildin' stone houses, offered them safe harbor from the blokes lookin' ta off 'em. Made 'em proper tribe, like any'a the orc folk. A fair deal. Some of 'em have even married a few orcs."

Rukhash grinned. "Like Bogdish's wife."

"Esha's a good kid," Gijakzi said with a smile of his own.

"Anyhow, most folks were keen on it. A full belly'll do a lot ta convince someone of a good idea. We kept gettin' more clans joinin' up, and yer mum kept stickin' behind me as chief. She had the head fer diplomacy an' I knew how ta organize a shitton of people. There been a few blokes over the years stuck on the old ways; what weren't keen on the doin' things any different than they always been, even if it were in their better interest. But they either left on their own or challenged me, an' I yet ta lose a challenge. Yer mum had me take on a few big blokes in front of everyone, an' that's kept the few disagreeable folks still hangin' in the tribe in line. She fuckin' knows how ta read folk, that mum a yers."

"Like books," Rukhash agreed. "Always did."

"Made me better at this chief shit, all the talkin' an' agreements an' keepin' my temper," Gijakzi admitted. "An' I taught her a little readin' an' how ta spot a shifty contract. We're a good team, me'n her."

"Sounds like it," Rukhash said. "So it just sort of  _happened_?"

Gijakzi laughed. "'At's a good way ta put it, yea. Bit by bit. But it's yer mum's fault. I woulda found a quiet hole to hide in an' take a bleedin' rest, but I'm glad she convinced me otherwise. We're really tryin' at somethin', Rukhash."

She frowned at him, not quite understanding. "Tryin' at what?"

A defiant look was in Gijakzi's eyes. "We're showin' that we don't need no Dark Lord ta make us strong."


	61. Expectations

**Splint  
Chapter 61: Expectations**

* * *

Ashplak regarded the three hunters in front of him with a keen look in his eye. "Stop me if you heard this one. An old Man an' a little lad go walkin' inta the woods..."

Next to Cadoc, Sapatuk snorted. "Stop," she said.

Keeping his attention on the small stag they were skinning, Cadoc quietly chuckled.

"No one asked  _you,_  ya little shit," the old orc growled.

"Go on'n tell yer joke,  _sharkû_ ," Gaidurb said with a wicked smirk. "I'm sure Cadoc ain't heard it yet." He forced his knife through a knot of sinew and cartilage. The leg he was sawing detached from the deer with a wet  _crack,_ and the young hunter tossed it into a nearby pile of butchered parts.

"Like I was sayin'," Ashplak started, focusing his attention on the Ranger, "An old Man an' a little lad go walkin' inta the woods…"

"Before you continue," Cadoc interrupted, "I would ask if this humorous tale is anything like the one you told us yesterday. Because I did  _not_ find that amusing."

"Well, you ain't got no proper sense'a humor," Ashplak pouted. "Don't worry, lad, ain't no screaming Women in this one."

"That somehow brings me no comfort…"

"Shut yer gob an' let me finish!" the old goblin huffed. Obediently, Cadoc went back to his task, fairly sure that this joke would be as off color as the last he heard from Ashplak.

"So this bloke an' this kid go walkin' in the woods," Ashplak paused, waiting for another interruption. When none came, he continued, "They kept goin' deeper an' deeper, an' it kept getting darker an' colder, an' this kid, he's gettin' real scared. The moon's out an' there's wolves howlin' an this kid's so spooked, he's near shittin' his pants, an' bursts inta tears."

"The old Man stops an' stares at this bawlin' brat an' says, 'Hey you, what're you on about?' The kid looks at 'im an tells 'im, 'Hey sir, I'm real scared. These woods is creepin' me out!' ' _Yer_  scared?' says the old Man. 'I gotta walk outta these woods  _alone_!'" The old goblin paused expectantly and Cadoc blinked back at him, slightly put off.

Sapatuk was snickering. "It's still funny," she confirmed.

The ranger gave the old goblin a dour look. "I think that was fairly horrible," Cadoc said.

Ashplak grinned widely. "Thought you might."

Cadoc shook his head reprovingly while Ashplak chuckled. Stripping the skin from the stag, he moved to submerge it in the large cauldron the tribe used for boiling animal pelts. Gaidurb was already beginning to slice what they had butchered into long, thin strips for drying.

Though Gijakzi had promised to send provisions with his warriors so the Gundbarashal tribe would not be put out with extra mouths to feed, Dufkarn had ordered a few extra hunts just in case. The rains that would mark the Nûrn winter had already begun as light showers. Cadoc was damp and covered in blood. He looked forward to a bath and bed. They had been fortunate to find a few stray deer that were willing to brave the terrain in the forest. After only a week of light rain, the patches of quicksand had spread to small lakes, and Cadoc understood why, despite not having a proper winter of snow and cold, the Gundbarashal were prepared for a season of no hunting. Goblins could not swim well, and in a few months, when the drizzling rain became a deluge, the entire forest would be turned into one, massive, lake.

The Uruk warriors from the Glokong tribe would arrive before then; in the next few days. It had been nearly two weeks since Rukhash bid goodbye to her father and sister and brother, happy tears in her eyes. Soon, Botarg would return with the extra warriors Gijakzi had promised. There was some trepidation among the goblins about this. Cadoc discovered that, when they had first come to settle here, it was an Uruk captain, not Dufkarn that led them, but he had been an unfair chief and, led by Dufkarn, the goblins had revolted against him and his uruk underlings within the first year.

Cadoc didn't think they had much to worry about. The Uruk hai of the Glokong tribe followed a goblin chief. Dufkarn had used that very point to calm a few nervous tremors among the warriors and lower ranking goblins. But Cadoc had discovered that, when it came to prejudice against their own kind, Orcs were not much different than Men. Goblin folk and uruk folk had a long history of abuse and subservience. The concept of a mixed group of uruks and goblins working together was something of a wonderment to most of the Gundbarashal.

In retrospect, it was surprising that Rukhash hadn't received more flack than she did when they first arrived, but Grazad's word in their favor had carried more weight with it than Cadoc had previously assumed. He often found they had more than one reason to be grateful to the old orcess that spoke for them. He was very sure, if Grazad had not been a part of this tribe, that they would have not survived their first night among the Gundbarashal Orcs.

But that night seemed as though it passed years ago, even though only five months had gone since he and Rukhash were dragged into the dens of the Gundbarashal. Cadoc still had to endure the occasional ribbing, but it was the same, light hearted teasing they used with one another; nothing like the undercurrent of malice behind Srigzhut's comments. Becoming tribe meant more than just a mark on his chest and a share of the hunts. The goblins here really  _did_  consider him one of them, and Cadoc found, much to his own surprise, that he had begun to consider  _himself_ Gundbarashal.

It didn't make their dark sense of humor something he could share in, but he handled that troubling aspect of orcish disposition with the same casual composure that he employed when it came to their unnecessarily public displays of intimate affection and their nonchalance when it came to nudity. Cadoc, simply, let it roll off. At first, he had to make a conscious effort, but now, he discovered that it really  _didn't_ bother him so much. It most likely had more to do with exposure than it did actual acceptance of some of their behavior, but a large part of it was the fact that he knew these people now, not just as  _a_  people, but as individuals. Cadoc was accustomed to Ashplak's ongoing quest to give him a hard time; to Gaidurb's attempts to get a rise out of him; to Fiilmor's seemingly natural aversion to wearing a shirt unless she was in the forge; or to Nûtgroth's sexual escapades which seemed to span the entirety of the den and did not require any form of discretion. What he once considered an overall orcish custom had become less custom and more bizarre personal quirks.

Not that he wasn't considered odd in his own right. The fidelity he and Rukhash shared was an anomaly, not a rule, among orcs; as was his aversion to intimate contact, even if it was meant in a non sexual way; or his lack of off color humor. But the orcs here accepted these "quirks" in the same way he accepted theirs. His daughter was treated no differently than any other child in the den, and he and Rukhash enjoyed respected positions that added to the overall benefit of the tribe.

It troubled him initially: that he  _had_  found more acceptance among Orcs than Rukhash had found among Men. Upon that realization, there was a small part of Cadoc that felt disappointed in his own people, but then he remembered his family's easy acceptance of Rukhash; of Magistrate Halbard's fairness in dealing with her and of the Men that rode to their rescue when Barmund and his orc hunters had attacked them. She  _had_ found acceptance in his village. It may have taken a little longer for her to be trusted in the same way he was trusted here – Men and Orcs tested trustworthiness in different ways – but Cadoc was sure they might have managed to build a life there if not for outside aggressors. Men were not as insular as Orcs. Cadoc imagined, if Orc tribes organized themselves more like Men, with a ruling class that was removed from its population and social mingling that spanned numerous tribes over the vastness of a country, that he might be sought after and hunted just as Rukhash was, whether or not the Gundbarashal tribe had come to accept him.

He spent most of what was left of the evening cutting and skewering and drying meat alongside Ashplak and Gaidurb and Sapatuk. They were joined by a few other successful hunting groups, but most of the teams set out had returned empty handed. Cadoc and the hunters that had more success were relieved of their duty a little early. He did not bother going to the den, but followed several other hunters down to the hot lake to wash up. He headed back half naked, his soiled shirt and vest draped over his arm. Bearing oneself from the waist up was practically common fashion among orcs, so no one paid him much heed.

The main den was bustling. The orcs who usually scoured the forest, gathering edible roots and seeds were now tasked with preparing several caves for the visiting uruks. Ranmor was overseeing things with her usual, haughty, authority. Cadoc gave the den mother a respectful nod as he strolled through, heading to the cave he shared with Rukhash.

They had moved out of Grazad's cave a little over a week ago, after an intense search for an acceptable cave of their own. Dera had quickly fallen into a sleeping routine, and Rukhash was long healed from the birth. The pair of them wanted a little privacy, and though Grazad had been more than understanding when they told her they would move out, Cadoc thought the old orcess looked a bit misty as they carried their belongings out of her den.

Cadoc wanted to find a cave that would afford them some privacy from prying eyes, as most of the dens remaining were mere hollows, completely open to the main cave. Rukhash wanted to be close to her teacher, and as accessible to Grazad as possible. The den they found met most of these requirements, though Cadoc was obliged to move a few flat stones near the wide ledge at its entrance, forming a crude stair, so Grazad would not have to over exert herself climbing to the top. The ceiling in their den was too low for a fire, so Rukhash was gathered with Grazad, Fiilmor and Bhrafmor outside, where their fire was built amidst a wide circle of stones. Many of the other dens were as low ceilinged as theirs, especially on the upper levels, so this was not so odd. They also had the benefit of being located further back in the main den, so their porch was mostly hidden.

The women were chatting about some gossip or another when Cadoc climbed the small series of stones to the cave, but paused briefly to give him a little wave as he entered the den. Rukhash was nursing Dera while Fiilmor nursed Gruk. Dera could drag herself around now, and her soft spot had healed entirely, so she and Gruk were playing around one another more and more. Cadoc imagined the two of them would become fast friends.

Inside, the cave was shallow and long, divided into two sections. Near the entrance was a deep step that led into the main part of their den. The floor there was even and smooth, but the cave branching off of this area had an uneven floor, rough and crudely hewn by nature. Their large pelt collection had finally come in handy. While they had already traded a few of the nicer furs, what remained was used to line the floor of their den, leaving them with a back room where they could sleep in relative peace. Cadoc had divided this larger back cave into two sections with a burlap curtain draped over a pole. Dera slept in the far corner while he and Rukhash slept in the area that led outside. Though she was still using a basket, in a few months she would be fine in a pallet, and Cadoc did not want her sneaking out while they slept.

After hanging his rinsed out shirt and damp vest on a rack in the corner, he rifled through the large, wicker box where Rukhash kept his clothing. She had seen to their laundry this week, since gathering duties had been non existent and the pregnant females in the den seemed to be progressing apace. Cadoc threw on a clean shirt and set his boots to air out, pulling on his soft, deerskin shoes. He unstrung his bow and hung it on the little hooks mounted into the stone in the main part of the den along with his quiver and sword, which Dufkarn had returned to him not long after Gijakzi and his entourage left. His knife remained tucked in his belt. No one wandered the main den without a weapon, even though there was no, real need for one.

Rukhash had left her pot of salve out, most likely used for a sprog's scraped knee, and Cadoc gently tucked that onto the shelf along the back wall. There wasn't much floor space, so the first thing Cadoc had done, after they moved their belongings into the den, was build a deep shelf along the wall to help them save space. Takhbork had a similar layout in his own home, and the goblin smith was a great help when it came to augmenting the den Cadoc and Rukhash shared.

Eyeing his barely begun carving project, Cadoc retrieved it from the corner along with his short, wide carving knife and a scrap piece of leather he used for shavings. Rukhash had already yelled at him for carving in the den. Even with a blanket laid out, little bits of wood found themselves everywhere. She had spent the better part of an afternoon cleaning up after him, and gave him an earful when he had returned home that evening. Deciding to spare himself a hollering, Cadoc ducked back out of the cave and found a spot at the bottom of the stairs leading to the ledge the women were sitting on, so he could stay out of their way. With wry amusement, he noted that Gruk and Dera had switched both breasts and mothers. Dera suckkled from Fiilmor and Gruk from Rukhash, something they had begun to do more and more over the past few days.

Leaning over to get a better look at him, Rukhash smiled and asked, "How were yer day?"

"It went well enough," Cadoc told her as he unrolled his leather blanket. "I was let off because we had better luck than the other groups. We pulled in two small deer."

"'At  _is_  good luck," Grazad said. "Most animals have the sense ta start findin' higher ground 'bout now. Pretty soon, the most you lads'll find is a few goats on the other side'a the mountain."

"Back ta that thing are ya?" Bhrafmor asked. She was leaning over as well, eyeing the plaque in his lap curiously. "What is that thing anyhow?"

"A  _Nothrim Taith_ ," Cadoc told her. Bhrafmor frowned and Fiilmor now leaned over as well, looking at him curiously. "It is a tradition among the Dunédain to hang the crest of their house over the door."

Rukhash blinked at him. "What's a crest?"

"They's like symbols," Grazad said sagely. "Like, how they Eye always had an eye on 'is banners, or how them  _tarks_  had a tree on theirs."

"Is 'at why the strawheads had horses all over their stuff?" Rukhash wondered out loud.

"Ain't never seen no strawheads' banners," Grazad admitted.

Rukhash turned her attention back to Cadoc. "So what's yer crest?"

"Our crest," Cadoc corrected.

She smiled broadly at him. "So what's  _our_  cest," she amended.

Cadoc held up the pine board so she could have a better look. Most of the shape was roughed out now, and what was not yet carved was stenciled out n charcoal. Rukhash grinned ear to ear. "It's a  _fox_ ," she gasped. "The crest fer your house is a  _fox_! That's bleedin' perfect."

With a quiet smile of his own, Cadoc started in on his carving. "It is actually considered a minor animal, as far as heraldry goes."

"Why's 'at then?" Rukhash asked.

"Because foxes are considered clever, but not very strong."

"Oi!" Bhrafmor barked. "I got bit by a fox once when I were a brat. 'At little bastard didn't seem so weak ta me." She held up her wrist for Rukhash to inspect. "Left a scar, he did."

"What a prick."

"Bein' clever's more useful than bein' strong," Fiilmor said thoughtfully. "You could be the strongest, toughest bloke in the world an' still be a bleedin' idiot."

"Or an arsehole," Grazad added.

"That too."

"So why didn't yer sis have no foxes on her door?" Rukhash asked.

"She had one carved into the mantle…"

"Right," Rukhash interrupted, not quite remembering that, but Edda had so much carved wood in her house, it all bled into itself. "But if all yer folk put their crest above their front door, why didn't yer sis have one too? She's as much Dunédain as you."

"That is true," Cadoc admitted. "But lineage is passed along the father's side among my people. When Edda married Elador, she took on the responsibilities of  _his_  house, and because he is not Dunédain, in whole or part, nor is he of a royal line, he has no crest."

"Well that's kinda shitty," Rukhash frowned. "Why can't he just use Edda's crest, 'en?"

"Well…" Cadoc paused. He hadn't really thought about it before. His brother-in-law was not exactly concerned with family crests and lineage. Elador had earned his wealth and the respect of his peers through hard work, not his bloodline, and was proud of it. "I suppose he  _could_ , though it might offend some men of purer heritage."

"Like them folks what give you a hard time fer bein' part Dunlending?"

"Precisely."

"Fuck them," Rukhash scoffed. "Elador's a stand up bloke. He should get ta put his wife's crest over his door if he wants."

"I do not believe it matters to Elador either way," Cadoc told her, "but I am sure he would appreciate the sentiment."

"How you gettin' that above yer cave," Grazad said, frowning at the mouth of their den. "Stone's sorta smooth here."

"I thought I might bribe Hurug in some way," Cadoc informed her. "If he can manage to carve a small depression, I could wedge it in there."

"Oh, that might work."

"Takhbork's got these little angled brackets he uses ta mount stuff in our den," Fiilmor said. "You know, the animal skulls he's catchin' now. You should ask him ta help you out. Won't have ta bribe no one that way."

"I feel as though I put your  _shaûk_  out enough, Fiilmor."

She batted the air. "Takhbork don't bloody care 'bout that shit. You two're pals. Don't think he's liked a bloke as much as 'e likes you in a long while. Not since his little brother bit it."

Cadoc frowned sadly. "I did not know Takhbork had a younger brother."

"He don't no more," Fiilmor said. "But you should ask him," she added, quickly changing the subject. "He likes all them little home improvement projects you two been up to. Ain't much more he can do to  _our_  den. Think he feels like yours is sorta a fun new thing ta mess with. He were up all night figurin' out the best size shelves ta make fer your spot, when you two were up ta that."

"I very much appreciated his help," Cadoc admitted. "Augmenting a cave is not quite the same as building a house."

"No right angles," Takhbork said, strolling up to them. "It's harder ta get a snug fit when all the measurements're different."

"That's it exactly," Cadoc said as his goblin friend took a seat next to him. Takhbork's whole face was flushed but clean, so he had most likely come from the hot lake.

He leaned over, glancing at the plaque in Cadoc's lap. "Still workin' on that  _Nothrim Taith_?" he asked.

"How'd  _you_ know what it was?" Bhrafmor huffed indignantly.

"Cause I seen him start the thing," the goblin smith snapped at the girl. Glancing around, he added. "Shouldn't you be helpin' yer mum prepare them dens?"

Bhrafmor sat up a little straighter. "I was checkin' on the breedin' girls today," she answered.

"And you done a fine job at it," Rukhash said, patting her knee.

"You did at that," Grazad admitted. "Found brains I didn't know you had in these past few months."

Bhrafmor preened.

Done with their nursing, Dera and Gruk were rolling around on the ledge. Cadoc had been watching them idly as the conversation progressed, since no one else seemed to be doing so. Gruk suddenly did a small somersault, and started dangling from the edge. He made a gurgling chirp at Dera, and she dragged herself to the side of the stone porch, glanced over the side, and maneuvered herself so she could swing a leg over. Cadoc quickly stood and lifted her up. She protested with a high pitched squeak.

He looked at Gruk expectantly. "She's too small for that still, Gruk," Cadoc admonished.

"Oh Cadoc," Rukhash breathed. "She's fine. Her head's ain't got a soft spot no more an' her grip is good. You should let her practice."

Cadoc passed Dera to his  _shaûk_  and Rukhash took her automatically. "Let her practice on a ledge that is not so high," he said.

"Any lower an' it won't be no ledge at all…"

"This is lookin' good," Takhbork noted as he took Cadoc's carving project in his hand. He looked expectantly at Gruk. "Come here an' have a look mite."

Gruk swung towards his father and settled in the goblin's lap, his eyes on the fox carving. Takhbork leaned close to his ear. "Don't get Dera in no trouble, little lad. She's still loads younger'n you, even if she is just about as big."

Gruk made a little growling noise and began to trace the fox's ear with his claw.

"Dera ain't in no trouble," Rukhash argued.

Takhbork waver her off. "Don't harp, don't harp," he said. Turning his attention towards Fiilmor, he added, "Why don't we go fetch our cut an' have some dinner. Ashplak's been crushin' it at bones lately, an' I ain't in no mood ta lose another round ta him."

"Sounds good ta me," Fiilmor said.

Leaping gracefully to the floor, Fiilmor paused briefly so Gruk could hop on her back before following Takhbork up to their den.

Rukhash gave Cadoc a dour look. "You shouldn't coddle," she said.

"I was not coddling…"

"You  _were_  coddling. Here, look." Rukhash lifted Dera by the hands and placed her over the edge. Cadoc's tiny daughter immediately gripped the stone and Rukhash pulled her hands away. Cadoc started. "Don't you move!" Rukhash hissed at him, and he froze. She turned her attention towards Dera. "Come on, mite, pull yerself ta mum."

Dera's grey eyes were focused on Rukhash as she struggled to lift herself, and Cadoc was sorely tempted to give her a boost, but felt himself rooted by Rukhash's heated glare. After a series of small grunts, Dera was able to pull her top half onto the ledge, and soon she had dragged herself on completely, squealing happily as she made her way to Rukhash's lap.

"She's only four weeks old…" Cadoc said lamely.

"Well, I ain't gonna have 'er out on a hunt!" Rukhash barked. "But she's a strong kid. Most orc babes  _are_."

"If anything, I expected her ta be walkin' by now," Grazad said idly. "She's a bit behind, but that's ta be expected."

Bhrafmor huffed at Cadoc. "What's this, yer first kid?"

"I have a son that is grown," Cadoc told her, "but Holgar was not nearly so mobile at this age. I doubt he could have pulled himself up a ledge at two years old."

" _Skai_ ," Bhrafmor breathed, "mannish brats sound like delicate things."

"They is, a bit," Rukhash said thoughtfully as she dangled a string of beads for Dera to bat at. "But they ain't gotta worry about fightin' fer food, or fist fights or getting stepped on."

"Orc brats don't neither," Bhrafmor argued.

"Not  _here_  they don't," Grazad said. "Back when the Eye were havin' girls breed, all the brats went straight away to the nurseries, 'en once they were up'n about, they was shipped off to the trainin' pits. Pitmasters there useta have the poor kids fightin' fer food, an' whoever lived through that year went up to the barracks with a knife in their hand and a 'fare thee well'."

"Bloody hell," Bhrafmor said, aghast. "Why'd you go'n do an awful thing like that?"

"Cause the Eye wanted 'is soldiers  _mean_ ," Grazad said. "Ain't no one gonna be near as mean if they 'ave a mum ta cry to."

"I'unno," Rukhash mumbled. "Mosta my brothers were plenty mean, an' they got ta stay with the clan 'til they was called up."

"Uruks don't need too much help ta be mean," Grazad huffed. "'Sides, it sounds like them Isengard barracks weren't a fun time anyhow, what with how yer brother complained. Yer lot had it worse from what I can guess, what with both the Eye and the Hand in yer ear."

"What'ya mean when ya say the was in yer ear?" Bhrafmor asked, glancing from Rukhash to Grazad, and then to Cadoc. He shrugged at her. He had no idea what it was like to hear an insistent voice in his head either.

Rukhash made a helpless gesture. "It just… put you on edge all the time. Made you want ta start shit, even if no shit needed startin'. Took a lot ta ignore it. After Orthanc flooded, I could hear the Eye callin me East, and me'n my brother didn't stop runnin' til we hit  _Lugbûrz_. It made you fall inta line, even if you didn't want ta. It was just always  _there_. And I noticed after, at there was a sorta calm in not havin' it there. Folks in my old clan quarreled enough, but it weren't like it were before, an' here… Well, folks here is downright peaceful."

"It happened sorta subtle," Grazad added quietly. "You can't know it 'cause you was born after, but you ask yer mum… it ain't quite like it were. Hard ta put yer finger on, really, but Rukhash is right. There's a peace here that weren't here even before the Call. Can't say I mind it much neither. I'd rather go out on a peaceful note."

"You ain't goin' nowhere anytime soon," Rukhash growled at the old healer. "You still got shit ta teach me'n Bhrafmor."

Grazad struggled to her feet, and both Rukhash and Bhrafmor automatically reached out to help her. "Well, right now, I gotta go feed Old Granny."

"Fuck's sake, Grazad," Rukhash groused. "We was just havin' a nice conversation."

"Quit whinin'," the old healer snapped. "Talkin' 'bout how shitty it was under the Eye ain't a nice conversation in my book. 'Sides, she's my responsibility."

"I'll lend a hand," Bhrafmor offered.

"Me too," Rukhash sighed. "That crazy old bitch could kill you, you know. She just has to catch you off guard  _once_."

"And how's she doin' that with you two followin' me everywhere?" Grazad asked dryly.

Rukhash passed Dera off to Cadoc and rose with Bhrafmor to help Grazad down the stone steps and towards the tribe's larder, where they would get their cut. Cadoc settled on the ledge and sat Dera in his lap. His daughter yawned sleepily at him, her grey eyes droopy.

"You've certainly had an exciting day," he told her. "Hanging about on ledges."

* * *

Rukhash returned to her den after helping Grazad deal with Old Granny. The ancient orcess had been quiet lately, but Rukhash recognized the hateful animosity in her pale eyes. She endeavored to keep a closer eye on Grazad when she went to feed her.

Cadoc had left his carving outside, but was nowhere to be seen on the ledge just outside their den. Pausing to examine his project, she smiled briefly at the jumping fox. She never had a family crest before. It was somewhat novel.

The gentle tenor of Cadoc's voice drifted out of the cave, and Rukhash's smile broadened. Sometimes, she felt a little jealous. He had never once sung for  _her_. Rolling Cadoc's plaque and carving knife into the leather blanket, she climbed the few steps to their den and ducked inside. He was in the back cave. Outside, the melody he was singing was an indistinct murmur – he had an odd habit of singing under his breath, despite having a pleasant voice – but now she could hear the words.

He did not use the  _golug_  tongue often, no orc besides her would understand it, but he would often speak it around Dera when they were alone. Rukhash didn't mind this. She had learned Common, Nûrnen orcish and Isengard orcish all at once, and could speak all three languages quite well. She even knew a bit of conversational Dunlending because of her grandfather and mother, though she was sorely out of practice. Dera learning Sindarin from the cradle would, at the very least, bring Cadoc some comfort. Rukhash could understand some of it, but speaking it was another matter, and she knew it was a tongue he missed speaking.

Rukhash listened as Cadoc sang to their daughter, and was pleased, because he sounded happy. Much of what made a person was where they came from, and Cadoc had given up most of what he was. A crest above their door, a little Sindarin spoken in their den, she didn't mind those things at all if it gave Cadoc something of home to cling to. He had made large strides to fit in here, and she was proud of him, but she didn't want Cadoc to give up what made him Cadoc.

Stealing silently into the back cave, Rukhash slipped behind her  _shaûk_ , peering over his shoulder to admire their daughter's sleeping face. She really was a pretty little sprog.

Cadoc's song stuttered to a stop as he realized she was directly behind him. "She was starting to drift off…" he said softly.

"Figured she might," Rukhash whispered. "Grabbed our cut, if you're feelin' like some supper. There was some roots mixed in, if you wanted ta put a stew together. Ain't had that in a while. I got plenty'a sage, if you need it."

Cadoc kissed her forehead. "I wouldn't mind at all," he said.

Rukhash grabbed his arm before he could move past her. "Cadoc," she said, "you know I'd never do nothin' I thought would hurt our girl, or let  _her_  do nothin' that could get her hurt, yea? Orc sprogs grow real quick, an' I've been spendin' more time with 'er'n you have, what with how you an' the lads've been runnin'. She's with me all day. I know what she can an' can't do."

"I know," Cadoc said, rubbing her arms. "It is sometimes a large leap for me, to grasp how quickly she is growing. She still looks like a newborn."

"She  _is_ ," Rukhash told him. "But newborn fer an orc is a little different'n it is fer yer folk. I remember how delicate Hallas was, an' he were loads older'n Dera is now when I met him. I know what you expect her ta be like, but she's a tough little thing."

Cadoc smiled at her. "Just like her mother."

Rukahash stifled a giggle. "I 'ave my moments."

Kissing Rukhash on the brow again, Cadoc nodded towards the outer cave. "Why don't we have some dinner, and steal a moment to ourselves while she's alseep."

Rukhash gave him a coy look. "Can't say I'd mind that at all…"

* * *

**Translations**

_Nothrim Taith_  (Sindarin) Translates roughly to "House mark". I'm not well versed in Sindarin, and if you  _are_  and find fault in my usage, then I ask that you PM me with any corrections that this term may require.

The tradition of the Dunédain of the south marking thier house with a plaque depicting their family crest is an original construct. Tolkien never said that they  _don't_  do this, so I consider it fair game ;P.


	62. Hegdash

**Splint**

**Chapter 62: Hegdash**

* * *

Ashplak was soaking wet and staring at the hottest bitch he'd ever seen.

Even with her hair plastered to the side of her face; her clothes weighed down by water; an ever growing puddle forming around her boots as she stood under the eave of their front porch, she was an untouchable monument to orcish femininity. There was no specific comeliness to her features, or particular refinement to her shape; but the way she  _held_  herself, the tone of her voice, the blade-sharp look in her eyes… Her very presence demanded attention. Maybe there were better looking orcesses than her out there, but at the moment, Ashplak couldn't think of one.

Or, perhaps, it had simply been a long, long while since his dick shot up like this. That could have something to do with his swooning as well.

This was Hegdash, Gijakzi's head girl, and she had come to meet with Ranmor. If their tribes were to become  _Turuk Nur_ , then this was a formality that had to be met. Technically, this part of their agreement could wait, but this was Rukhash's mother. No doubt, when she heard her daughter was here, she decided to hurry things along. Ashplak smiled quietly to himself. Ranmor was not overly fond of being out classed. She was going to shit a brick when she met this female.

Behind Hegdash stood the host of warriors the Glokong chief had promised; thirty in all, with an extra warrior to escort her back. They were decked out in full armor. Most wore the simple, steel helmet that was the fashion in Mordor proper back in the day, a visorless helm with a leather hood underneath. Many wore no, full breastplate, though Ashplak caught the glisten of wet mail underneath their wool tunics. There were a few that had the good sense to wear greaves and armguards and a few less than that sporting poleyns or pauldrons or cowters, but Ashplak was surprised that these additional pieces did not bear the usual spikes or serrated edges that were often seen among the uruk soldiery in the Black Army.

Then again, fancy adornments always seemed like more a hindrance than a help to Ashplak. Sure, bearing down on your enemy like a vengeful hedgehog would definitely get someone's attention, but all those pointy ends were bound to catch on  _something_  eventually, and put you in a bad spot when you were in the thick of things. Ashplak had always favored simpler armor himself. You were more likely to instill fear covered with blood, not stuck to the side of a tree. He had seen a bloke go out like that years back. The idiot had tripped on an uneven walkway and his pointy breastplate buried into the side of a wood storehouse. A  _tark_ soldier lobbed his head off without breaking a sweat.

Shaking off that amusing memory, the old goblin sauntered up to Dufkarn, who was doing his best to be gregarious. They had no idea that the Glokong tribe's  _shatroklob_  would be coming along with the warriors. When Zurnra and Surnra came tearing into the den, just past sundown, they had been wide eyed with terror. Seeing the group of fully armed uruks and goblins, they had assumed the worst. Dufkarn had taken the bulk of the warriors to meet the Glokong soldiers as their boats reached crest of the major river that wound through the center of their territory, near ready for a double cross.

The second she caught sight of them, Hegdash – who had worn no armor and carried only a thin short sword at her hip – raised her hand in greeting. Ashplak had never seen Dufkarn so thrown off his stride. She had leapt from the boat to the shore and quickly assured Dufkarn that the soldiers' armor was meant for easy transport, to free up their packs for spare clothes and food. Her words were confirmed as the smell of salted meat settled in the cool, humid air. Dufkarn accepted her explanation and quickly motioned for his warriors to sheath their blades. The boy had never liked surprises, but Hegdash was congenial and respectful of his position and more than gracious without being pandering. Ashplak knew why Gijakzi had sent her. She was quite the diplomat.

But diplomat or no, she had trekked through hours of rain, and the beginnings of annoyance were creeping into Hegdash's eyes now that she stood with her assembly at the mouth of their den. Dufkarn was beginning to repeat himself, stammering in what Ashplak could only assume was a mixture of intense attraction and ill learned etiquette. Becoming  _Turuk Nur_  was a rare occurrence among orc tribes, and there was no, real custom for this part of two tribes joining. The period before they pledged as sister tribes, and saw mated pairs exchanged, was a rarely practiced dance among orcs. Nothing was more awkward than an orc chief in the throes of political civility; especially when he had a hard on.

Which wasn't to say that Ashplak was in any condition to be civil or political, but he could lend his lad a hand when he needed it, and now seemed as good a time as any. Never mind Hegdash's annoyance, Turgrat was looking a little jealous.

With a sly smile in Hegdash's direction, Ashplak innocently asked, "You want I should take 'em to the dens Ranmor made up, chief?"

Blinking, Dufkarn turned from Ashplak to Hegdash, and finally seemed to sense her impatience. "Yea, yea," he said, puffing up. "Let yer lot take a load off," he added, addressing Hegdash. "We can discuss particulars later."

The Glokong tribe's  _shatroklob_  smiled sweetly and nodded, but Ashplak could tell she was relieved to be spared another round of Chief Dufkarn's pleasantries.  _You can pay me back for that later_ , Ashplak thought with a wicked grin that he was sure to cast in Hegdash's direction. To his bafflement she returned it.

"Lead the way, old soldier," she said, and Ashplak turned towards the dark tunnel leading to the main den, a quiet smirk on his face.

* * *

While the bulk of her unit was being slaughtered at the gates of Morannon, Ranmor was making her way back towards the Towers of Teeth, though she already knew nothing waited back at Lugbúrz. She had passed by the crumbling fortress at a distance, pausing briefly to watch the ruin of her horrible master with an odd mix of fear and amusement. Then, she had been alone, spotting other soldiering groups at a distance, but lacking the courage to approach them. Darburz had been a crueler captain than most, and she had no desire to fall into step under another uruk.

The plains of Gorgoroth had become a series of fiery rivers, so she pushed south, knowing the Ash Mountains would contain more Black Uruks, like her old captain. That was when she had come across Katzub's band, and Dufkarn. The orc that would one day lead the Gundbarashal Tribe was head of the goblin archers in his unit. This was a usual system in large units with a mixture of uruks and goblins. An uruk captain usually looked to his goblin underling to keep the lower ranking orcs in order. It was it's own, perilous position, with any weight of defeat often falling on the lead goblin, and a post rarely sought after. Most goblin captains rose to power because their uruk leader recognized the influence they held among their fellows. It resulted in a relationship not unlike a chief and his head girl.

It was not the collection of breeding females and their young that made Ranmor decide to join up with the group. They looked more like prisoners, cowered together under the sharp gaze of several uruks, with an ancient female that was supposed to lead them back to her home caves. It was Dufkarn that made Ranmor stay, not because of any attraction to him, or because of anything he had said, but because of the tiny sprog nestled between the large metal shield on his back and the corded muscle of his neck.

Nûtgroth had been barely two years old when the Fall sent them running. Ranmor had no idea how Dufkarn had managed to keep her with him all this time, but seeing a male so devoted to his offspring was something rare. Ashplak and Turgrat were with him, and the three of them would sit, back to back, while Dufkarn passed rations to the tiny orcling hiding on his person. Ranmor was never sure if Katzub did not realize the child was there, or simply did not care so long as she stayed out of sight, though Ranmor imagined it was more of the latter. Even without the breeding girls, all of which were goblins of the large, southern stock, the smaller orcs outnumbered the uruks three to one.

It was not until Grazad had led them to her caves that the uruks began to abuse the goblins under them in earnest. That was when Ranmor had started making allegiances among the females, quietly rising in influence among them while Dufkarn and Ashplak plotted against Katzub and his soldiers in secret, and it was more than just the uruks they had to worry about. There were still a few, lower ranking orcs that preferred to look to an uruk leader; old habits, Ranmor assumed. Besides that, Katzub was quick to squash anyone for even suggesting that he step down. In the end, it was Ashplak's guile that set Katzub up for defeat. Dufkarn and Katzub had often butted heads and the Black Uruk chief was becoming increasingly suspicious of his head goblin. In addition to this, Katzub refused to allow a  _shatroklob_  to rise in influence and ruin the free reign he and his had over the girls. It was because of these many factors that Ashplak played double agent, quietly listening in on the uruks' careless conversation while Dufkarn and Ranmor planned his demise.

And what a demise it was. They had banded together, warriors and breeding girls and working  _snaga_ , and overwhelmed the uruks and goblin lackeys holding them captive. It had been a spectacular battle. At the end, when Katzub's head was skewered on a pike in Dufkarn's hands, and all of his uruk soldiers were dead, they had tossed the goblins loyal to him into the river running inside their cave, assuring them a cold, watery death. It had been a bloody rise to power. Ranmor guarded her own influence closely, but Dufkarn had made good on his promise to make her head female. She had seen to the matters of the den immediately.

There were several sprogs that came as a result of uruk rape, so she had them put down first with no complaint from their mothers. The last thing she wanted was a crop of ill gotten spawn to continue the bloodline of their abusers. The other sprogs she let live on their dams' approval. The goblins loyal to Katzub had been allowed whatever female they wanted without the female's say so, and there was a smaller round of vengeful culling after the uruk spawn were taken care of.

Things had been mostly peaceful after that. She and Dufkarn butted heads often enough, but after a year passed without him picking up where Katzub had left off, Ranmor had agreed to bear his offspring in good faith. Bhrafmor was entirely hers, and Dufkarn did not involve himself with her rearing as he did Nûtgroth.

Ranmor had preferred it that way. She had her position; the girls fell in line under her, but Ranmor would not forget the quick turn that Katzub had taken. As they traveled through Nûrn, Ranmor believed she had found the one, fair uruk leader. Though customarily curt and haughty, he had been conscious of his group and getting them where they needed to go safely. Then, they made him chief and he became a cruel, injurious monster; worse even than her former captain had been. One of those half uruk brats had been hers, after all.

Which was why Ranmor was uneasy with this decision of Dufkarn's part, to partner with a group of uruks. They may have looked to a goblin chief, but as she watched the soldiers file into the dens that she had prepared for them, all she could do was remember the wrongs of their old chief, and the subtle shift from wary camaraderie in defeat to outright abuse. Though there were several goblin warriors, mostly archers, mixed in with the uruks, this alliance still made her anxious. The fact that their captain was female gave Ranmor little added comfort. Botarg  _seemed_  the reasonable sort, and females usually held ranks if the males started in on them, but that gender based fellowship did not always extend beyond breeds. Ranmor had endured the callous indifference of uruk females first hand. Though she had not served alongside Uruk hai – their lot had not joined under the Mordor banner  _en masse_  until after the defeat of their wizard – uruks were uruks, and she would not be quick to trust them.

And it was not only Uruk hai uruks among Botarg's group. There was a Black Uruk male – on the smaller side for his ken, but a Black Uruk still – and a lean female of Rarmoz Mal stock, the tall, thin uruks that hailed from the Mountains of Shadow in the east. That lot was to be trusted least of all. They may not have had the bulk of their western cousins, but all of the Rarmoz Mal soldiers she knew were a crafty, cold-blooded sort.

Ranmor remained on her customary perch with her usual assembly, watching several sprogs whose mothers were out attending their chores. Fiilmor was with her, tending Gruk and Dera while Takhbork and Cadoc saw to some last-minute smithing and Rukhash helped Grazad feed her monstrous pet. Though feigning disinterest, she watched keenly as Botarg ordered the food they had brought gathered together and hauled off to storage while the warriors settled themselves in the series of caves Ranmor had sectioned off for them. She had seen that they were cleaned and fresh bedding was put in, but she refused to add more comforts than that. She half expected some complaints on the uruks' part, but they seemed to be arranging themselves peacefully.

Ranmor had thought that the group with Gijakzi had dressed rather oddly, and the uruks and goblins stashing their armor in respective dens were dressed very much in the same way; in dark colored, woolen tunics and trousers; cotton undershirts; and long, leather vests. They looked almost like Rhûnen soldiers. Dufkarn had mentioned that there were Men among their tribe, but there was no surer sign of it than this. Except, of course, for the one man sitting among them. Ranmor had missed him when he filed in with the group, since he had been armored like the rest of them, but with his helmet off, there was no mistaking him for anything else.

 _A queer lot…_  she thought, idly.

A female Uruk hai standing off to the side, neither assisting with the set up or giving orders, immediately caught Ranmor's attention. She was chatting up Ashplak, or rather, the old goblin was chatting  _her_  up. She smiled congenially and asked him something and he pointed in Ranmor's direction.

Dufkarn decided to make an appearance as the female approached her, and Ranmor caught the uncomfortable look on his face when he realized this uruk woman would reach Ranmor before he could. Noting the way she walked, the confidence in her stride, Ranmor immediately knew why. She didn't have to recognize the similarities in her features to realize this was Rukhash's mother, the Glokong  _shatroklob_.

 _Starting with the pleasantries early, are we,_  Ranmor thought dryly as she stood in greeting.

"Yer Ranmor," she said, nodding politely.

"And yer Hegdash, as I recall," Ranmor replied, though she did not return the other female's polite nod.

"'At's right," Hegdash said, nonplussed by Ranmor's show of defiance. "We have a good lot to discuss while I'm here."

Ranmor was struck by the odd sound of her voice. It lacked the usual growl of an orcish voice. In fact, if Ranmor wasn't looking straight at her, she would swear that voice belonged to a Woman. She frowned slightly. "'At we do," she confirmed, refusing to let a strange quality like that put her off.

Hegdash's gaze flitted about the females with Ranmor. She smiled pleasantly. "It can wait if yer busy," she said.

Ranmor didn't care for her already. Her words were a little  _too_  gentle, too gregarious. They felt false. "Seein' to the little ones at the moment," Ranmor replied, sitting again. "You can go ahead an' see ta yer folk fer now. We'll talk later."

She thought she caught a slight tick in Hegdash's expression at her curt tone before the uruk woman smoothed it back into polite neutrality. Ranmor was remarkably pleased with that reaction. "Of course," Hegdash replied pleasanty.

Hegdash was easily as tall as Cadoc, and that put her breastbone even with Ranmor's perch. Though Ranmor sat higher than her, Hegdash was still afforded an easy look over the females and orclings sitting together. Her gaze went immediately to Dera and she and Gruk inspected each other's feet. She rounded the tall boulder, approaching and anxious looking Fiilmor.

"This is Dera," she said in a pleased tone, addressing Ranmor as she neared her granddaughter. Bristling, Ranmor nodded, cautiously curious to see how Hegdash would react to her daughter's balaak progeny.

Hegdash folded her arms on the stone perch not far from Fiilmor, a gentle rumble rolled in her throat. Dera blinked at her and detangled herself from Gruk, crawling out of Fiilmor's lap. The female smith cast an uneasy glance towards Ranmor. With a slight tilt of her head, Ranmor instructed Fiilmor to hold her place as Dera left her reach.

"Oh," Hegdash breathed, "don't you look just like yer mum. And grey eyes," she laughed quietly, sounding genuinely pleased. "I ain't never seen an orc with grey eyes afore." She glanced towards Fiilmor. "Where's my Rukhash now?"

"She's down in the lock hole," Fiilmor said and, seeing the uneasy look on Hegdash's face quickly added, "She's helpin' Grazad feed her queer pet. Don't like the mite down there fer that."

Hegdash raised a brow. "A warg?"

"A mad old orc bitch," Ranmor corrected. "We don't let none'a the kids down there with 'er. She's out of'er skull crazy. Were running around in the holes underneath 'fore Dufkarn caught 'er. Near killed Cadoc. Grazad knew 'er back in the day, so Dufkarn's lettin' her keep the cunt, but I'll be happy when the old bitch is dead." A few rumbles of agreement flittered among the females.

"Hn," Hegdash grunted. "Don't blame you, from the sound of it, but I wouldn't mind seein' my girl, if you could point me in 'er direction. Botarg can see to her warriors."

Ranmor gave Hegdash directions to the lock hole and without a word the uruk female turned and headed towards the long tunnel that led to the tribe's jail. Ranmor frowned at her back, oddly annoyed by the damp, white stole that trailed behind her. What a ridiculous female. Dufkarn took that moment to approach Ranmor's perch. He hefted himself up easily, snagged Dera before she could scurry off the edge after her grandmother and, in the same, easy motion, dropped her in Fiilmor's lap before the smith could stand.

He took a seat next to Ranmor, though she refused to look in his direction. "I didn't know she was comin', or I'd'a warned ya," he said in apology.

Ranmor huffed, glaring at him. "You better not expect me ta kiss 'er arse."

An uncomfortably look settled over Dufkarn's features. "'Course not," he agreed cautiously. "I expect ya ta act like any girl in yer position. Your  _shatroklob_ , so this kinda… diplomatic relations… fall ta you."

"I don't trust that bitch further 'n I can throw 'er," Ranmor hissed under her breath.

Dufkarn bore his teeth in frustration. "I didn't expect you  _would_ ," he said tightly, obviously annoyed and trying to reign it in, "but you still gotta hear her out. We're tryin' ta make good with her folk, an' this gotta be done. So, fer fuck's sake, do it proper!"

Ranmor folded her arms over her chest and looked away. She heard Dufkarn drop to the cave floor with a grumble and shuffle off. She didn't need him telling her how to do her job. Ranmor would handle Hegdash in her own way, and it wouldn't be by fawning all over her.

* * *

"You little shit," Grazad hissed, glaring at Rukhash. "Did you have ta hit 'er so  _hard_."

"Yea," Rukhash growled back. "I  _did_."

Old Granny's nails had begun to grow back, and before Grazad fed her, she wanted to trim them down again. Already the old orcess had worked long furrows into her bony chest, which never seemed to fill out no matter how much Grazad fed her. But Old Granny was ready for their attempt to drug her this time. When Rukhash caught hold of her, she ducked and rolled and clear knocked the brew from Grazad's hands, spilling it across the tar black floor. With a hand free she made a swipe at Bhrafmor, and Rukhash decked her in the back of the head, knocking her out.

Now, Grazad was fussing over her limp body, checking her pulse and clucking under her breath. Rukhash gave Bhrafmor a once over, and realizing she was fine, turned towards Grazad. "So let's deal with her claws already," Rukhash huffed. "Get those done before she wakes up."

"She ain't never gettin' well if yer gonna beat her up all the time," Grazad mumbled.

"Get well?" Rukhash scoffed. "Get  _well_ , you say? Yer as mad as that old fuck if you think she'll ever have her head on straight again. Mad or blind. She fuckin' hates you, Grazad. She hates all of us. We should put 'er down and out of  _our_  misery."

"Get the file," the old healer snapped. Obediently, Rukhash passed the iron rasp to Grazad and the old orcess began filing furiously. Rukhash wrapped a bandage around the wound Old Granny had inflicted on herself and passed what was left of their supplies to Bhrafmor, who was still catching her breath outside the cage. That poor girl was terrified of Old Granny, and Rukhash didn't blame her. The kind of murderous madness in this ancient orc was worthy of fear, especially for a girl who's tits had barely come in. Not that Rukhash was scared of the old bint, but she had been strangled by the invisible hand of a Nazgûl. That sort of thing made Old Granny seem much less scary by comparison.

Grazad had the old orcess's nails filed in short order, but instead of hefting herself to her feet and closing the cell door behind her, she lingered, threading her claws through the wispy, white hair of the mad old coot like she was a hurt child. Rukhash caught a slight fluttering of Old Granny's eyelids. With an annoyed grunt, Rukhash yanked Grazad to her feet, tossed the goat leg into the cell and dragged Grazad out of the cage.

"Oi!" the old healer barked as Rukhash manhandled her, "you get yer hands off of me!"

Slamming the cell door shut, Rukhash whirled on Grazad. "She's wakin' up," Rukhash snapped, pointing at Old Granny.

The ancient orcess made as strange, hissing noise as she rolled to her knees. She immediately went to scratch her chest and scowled when she realized her nails had been filed down again. She set her icy glare on Grazad. " _Wretched old woman takes our claws–_ "

"Shaddap," Rukhash drawled. "We fed'ya didn't we? Quite yer gripin'."

"It's enough, Rukhash!" Grazad said, sounding tired.

Ignoring Old Granny as she fell on the haunch with ravenous abandon, Rukhash squatted in front on Grazad and took hold of the old healer's shoulder. "I'm sorry I went an' tugged on you, Grazad," Rukhash said gently. "Me'n Bhrafmor, we're just scared than mean old bat's gonna hurt ya." She briefly caught Bhrafmor's eye, and the younger healer nodded.

Grazad sniffed quietly, and Bhrafmor cleared her throat. "Since Old Granny's fed, I'm all fer lunch, myself," she said, changing the subject.

With a thin smile, Grazad turned and patted her youngest apprentice on the arm. "It's a good suggestion, girl." Rukhash was relieved Grazad seemed willing to let the matter drop. Old Granny was gnawing miserably at her portion, giving them all a dark look, and Rukhash was glad she hadn't opened her mouth again. Just the sound of the ancient orcess's voice set Rukhash's hair on end.

"Cadoc caught some fish from the river this mornin'," Rukhash said, standing. "They just up and jumped right into our water pitcher, queer things. I still got this whole one we cooked an' haven't 'et."

"Well," a startling familiar voice broke in from the stairwell, "that sounds like a fine lunch."

Blinking, Rukhash stood and turned to find her mother leaning lazily against the stone wall, just outside the lock hole. She looked remarkably the same, except for the furry stole around her shoulder. The white tuft of fur Rukhash had known since her earliest memory was definitely waterlogged and lacking its usual fluff. But aside from being a little damp, it was definitely her mother standing on the other side of the room looking, for all the world, like she hadn't skipped a beat. For a moment, Rukhash could barely speak.

"Who the fuck're you?" Bhrafmor huffed, standing tall. "You uruk warriors ain't allowed down here!"

"Well it's a good thing I ain't no uruk warrior," Hegdash laughed and approached her daughter. "What?" she pouted, sounding disappointed, "I don't get bowled over like yer dad?"

Shaking off her surprise, Rukhash embraced her mother around the middle, a little annoyed that all these years had only closed the difference in their height by a measly foot. "You never liked them sorts'a greetings," Rukhash said, feeling very young all of a sudden.

"That's true," Hegdash confirmed, lifting her daughter away by the shoulders and searching her face. Rukhash was surprised how  _the same_  she was. Her father had seemed somehow more approachable now that she was older, but her mother remained this oddly ethereal creature; a female Rukhash could never hope to match. "You've grown up lovely, eh?" Hegdash tweaked her chin. "My lucky sprog. When yer dad said you was still alive, 'at's all I could keep thinkin'."

Her attention turned to the two goblinesses at Rukhash's side. "You must be Grazad," she said, addressing the old healer.

"Yea," Grazad rumbled.

"I hope you don't think I share Gijakzi's opinion of you," Hegdash said in a gentle tone. "Rukhash's father 'as always been the hot headed sort." She glanced at Bhrafmor. "And you are?"

Grazad's youngest apprentice straightened her shoulders. "Bhrafmor," she said, standing tall. "I work under yer daughter here, ma'am."

"Well, don't you have fine manners," Hegdash said, a teasing tone to her voice. She released her daughter and took a step towards Old Granny's cage. "And this is your strange 'pet', I'd guess."

"Old Granny ain't no pet," Grazad huffed. "She were a part'a the clan when I were growin' up here. Just lost herself a few marbles over the years."

"They must've been important marbles, to've landed 'er in a pen," Hegdash noted idly as she leaned her forearm against the bars.

"Don't get too close ta her, mum. She'll take a swipe."

"Oh, now, my little heart," Hegdash purred, setting her sights on Old Granny. "What's this poor old thing goin' ta do ta  _me_."

Old Granny had stopped eating, and was glaring at Hegdash leaning against her cell as though she could not believe the uruk woman's audacity. Snarling, the ancient orc pointed at Hegdash with accusing eyes. " _I can see your light_."

Rukhash's mother smiled a strange, knowing smile. "Ain't that funny," she said, barely above a whisper. "'Cause I can see  _yers_."

Old Granny's hateful scowl morphed into something Rukhash had never seen in the old orcess. She looked  _scared_ , as if Hegdash revealed some horrible secret, and began scratching furiously at her chest.

Rukhash noted Grazad's miffed expression. "Don't mess with the old bitch, mum," Rukhash pleaded. "She's miserable enough."

Turning, Hegdash clapped her hands brightly. "Yer right," she said. "I'd rather have some lunch an' sit with my pretty little granddaughter. Where's that  _shaûk_ of yers, anyhow."

"Cadoc's up in the forge with Takhbork," she said, put off by her mother's enthusiasm. "He'll be down later fer supper." She glanced towards Bhrafmor and Grazad standing uncomfortably by the stairwell. "You wanna join us?" she asked them.

"You go on ahead with yer mum," Grazad said, sharing an uncomfortable look with Bhrafmor. "You two got lots ta catch up on."

Hegdash took Rukhash's wrist and began leading her up the stairs towards the main cave. "You've got ta show me yer den…"

As Hegdash's oddly clear voice trailed off, Bhrafmor stood next to Grazad and watched Rukhash disappear into the tunnel, half dragged by her mother. The young orcess glanced from a spooked looking Old Granny to Grazad.

"Rukhash's mum is a queer girl," she said.

Grazad raised a brow at her. "No doubt. I'd warn Cadoc about 'er, but I sorta wanna see how it plays out."

Snickering, Bhrafmor fell into step behind Grazad as they headed out of the lock hole. "Me too," she agreed.

* * *

**Translations**

_**Turuk Nur**_ "sister tribes" Two tribes that lend warriors to aid one another and engage in  _Grishgaium_ : a ritual in which unattached members looking to breed will breed with members of the sister tribe, so that the tribes share blood kin. This ritual takes place every 5-10 years (depending on available resources) to renew the bond.


	63. Well Met

**Splint**

**Chapter 63: Well Met**

* * *

Cadoc had spent the early hours of his day in the same way he had spent those hours every other day since the rains had begun on the Nûrnen side of the mountains: watching the sun set in the west. It had taken him over an hour to climb the series of crude stairs and steep tunnels that led to the rear exit on the upper slopes of the mountain. Though the temperature in the valleys of the forest were cool, they remained above freezing, but here, a few miles above ground, snow had piled to nearly his waist. Fortunately, the sky was clear and the cluster of rocks he used as a bench were still swept off from his last visit. Cadoc sat in quiet contemplation as the red sun dipped below the distant peaks that hid his homeland.

He could not say why this homesickness had struck him. Cadoc had spent winter seasons away from his village in the past, and he was happy here with Rukhash, as much as he had expected not to be when they first arrived. There was something about knowing he could not return that had gripped him in an odd way since his daughter was born. He would never show Dera the beauty of Ithilien in early spring, or the majestic cities of Gondor during the height of a festival, or the quiet peace of his village in the dead of winter. This knowledge bothered him in a way that he could not quite describe.

Which was not to say that he mourned the choices he had made. Knowing his family was safe went a long way to assuage any grief Cadoc might have felt over the loss of an old way of life, but he still wondered over the health of his sister and her family, of his mother, of Hedon and all of his friends. Cadoc still hoped he might one day send word to them of some kind, but now was not that time. Only six months had passed since he left Gondor. Perhaps, once this business with their troublesome neighbors was done, he might find a way back into Gondor. There were several small villages not far from the Narrow Path where he may not be recognized. It was possible he might ferry a letter out from one of them.

These were the idle thoughts that occupied Cadoc when Rukhash joined him. She had laid a light hand on his shoulder and Cadoc nearly jumped out of his skin, she had slipped so quietly behind him.

"Didn't mean ta scare ya," she laughed.

He scooted to the side and she took a seat next to him. "I didn't hear you come up," he explained, feeling silly.

She shrugged and looked west over the darkening sky. The sun was gone now. All that remained of the day was a sliver of red light sifting through the dark peaks. A quick, icy wind gusted over them, and she shivered, pulling the fur wrap over her shoulders tighter around her naked torso. Aside from that she was wearing only a thin leather skirt that barely draped passed her knees. Cadoc clucked to himself.

"You should wear a little more that if you are going to sit up here," he chided as he pulled off his thick vest and draped it over her.

"You been up 'ere a lot the past week," she replied, a concerned look on her face.

"There really isn't much to do this early, with the forest swallowed up by water. Most animals are avoiding going out at all. Setting traps seems a little pointless. And a few small fish hardly seem worth the trouble.

"They was a nice breakfast."

"I am glad you enjoyed them, but I feel like I barely see the sun at all anymore, what with how long it has been raining."

She searched his face, frowning. "Yer lookin' back the way we come."

Cadoc sighed, glancing west over the starry night. "I _have_ been feeling a little homesick," he admitted. "But it's -"

His words were cut short as Rukhash wrapped her arms around his middle, cleaving herself to his side. She nuzzled his chest. "Don't be sad," she said.

Shaking his head, Cadoc hugged her shoulders and kissed her crown. "I am not _sad_ ," he insisted.

"You've seemed sad," she argued, looking up at him with solemn, yellow eyes. "These past few days, you seemed sad."

Mulling it over, Cadoc did not think he had been particularly mopey. Thoughtful, perhaps. With the trials of his acceptance among the Gundbarashal over, in the quiet before this skirmish with their neighbors, his mind had been given the opportunity to dwell on things that were long out of his reach. Perhaps he had been a little quieter during their evening meals than he realized.

"Rukhash," he said, lifting her chin so her eyes met his, "I am not sad, or upset. Just a little homesick. I do not regret coming here with you, or settling with the Gundbarashal. I have made many friends here that I cherish, and I know that you and Dera are content here. I _am_ happy, just concerned about my family back in Gondor."

A fierce pout appeared on Rukhash's face. "An' that's it?"

Cadoc shrugged helplessly. "I suppose I just wish..." Cadoc struggled to find the right words as he searched her concerned face. "I wish the world did not have to be so complicated," he said finally.

"I know you'd pack up Dera and have us go for a visit if you could," she said, looking sad for him.

"My mother would adore her," Cadoc murmured with a soft smile. "You know, she always got on famously with my grandmother..." He cleared his throat, feeling indignant. "If we even attempted to go back, the risk would be too great. I doubt the three of us would get out of Southern Gondor before being discovered. No, Rukhash, I would never ask such a thing of you, _or_ of her, but that does not keep me from wanting the world to be more fair."

She hugged his arm silently. Cadoc looked down on her dark crown, and wondered what she was thinking. "You get real quiet sometimes," she said suddenly. "It makes me nervous... Like something's eating at you."

"Well, I suppose something _is_ eating at me, but it has nothing to do with you, nor is it anything you or I are in a position to change."

"Maybe that Faramir'll do somethin' 'bout all this shoot first ask questions later business," she replied, thoughtful. "He seemed like a more reasonable sort than most."

"Perhaps he will," Cadoc said, distant. He decided not to mention his future plans for letter sending. That would probably only serve to make her upset. "But at the moment, I should probably concern myself with getting back down below and helping Takhbork. Our guests will arrive soon, and the chief, apparently, wants to have enough arrows to fell the entire Haradrim army." Cadoc rose and pulled her to stand with him. He took hold of her chilled hands. "Besides," he added, "it's starting to get cold."

"It's queer ain't it?" Rukhash said as she allowed him to lead her inside. "It's clear an' cold out this exit while it's pourin' down at the main exit."

"It's the higher elevation..."

"Well, I know it, but it's still queer."

Cadoc smiled as they started down the dark stair. "I suppose it is," he acquiesced.

* * *

The rest of the early evening into midnight had been spent fletching arrows. Fiilmor was watching Gruk down in the main den, so the Gundbarashal arsenal fell to Takhbork and Cadoc to tend. Thankfully, there really weren't so many arrows to do. The heads had already been sharpened and fitted to their shafts by the tribes two smiths and their mannish apprentice. Half the quantity was already finished, the black feathers glued on and drying on a rack. Cadoc and Takhbork only had about a score to finish.

Usually, Fiilmor kept the forge entertained with conversation. Without her cheerful, talkative presence, Cadoc and Takhbork worked in mostly companionable silence. It was a meditative start to the day for Cadoc. His mind kept turning to letter sending, and he wondered what he should write. He would have to be careful not to give away certain information that would reveal his location or the size of the tribe he was with, in case said letter was intercepted. He wondered if Dufkarn might not allow him to send a letter at all. Cadoc did feel as though he should at least let the chief know what he was planning when he was ready for the trip.

"Oi, Cadoc," Takhbork said, breaking his train of thought. It was the first thing the goblin had muttered all day.

"Hm?"

"That feather's backwards," Takhbork helpfully pointed out. Blinking, Cadoc realized that he had, indeed, glued on this feather the wrong way.

Chuckling at himself, he quickly pulled it from the shaft before the glue could set and righted it. "Thank you, Takhbork," he said. "My mind was starting to wander."

"I'm surprised it ain't halfway ta Rhûn by now," the goblin beside him chided. "Looked ta me like it's been wanderin' all day."

"I apologize." Cadoc ducked his head. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

" _Me?_ " Takhbork barked out a laugh. "I were gonna ask _you_ that. You let yer mind go where it needs, lad. I don't mind workin' in quiet. Just watch them feathers, yea? Once this glue sets it's near impossible ta get them off without tearin' em an' ruinin' the whole shaft."

Cadoc gave him a little salute. "I'll keep my wits about me, sir."

Takhbork tagged his arm. "Yea, yea, ya don't have ta get all cute about it," he grumbled.

They fletched a few more arrows in silence before Cadoc said aloud, "It certainly is quiet in here without Fiilmor."

Takhbork chuckled. "She sure knows how ta keep things lively, my Fiilmor."

Cadoc smiled at his friend. "How long have you two been together?" he asked, curious. By the way they were with one another, it seemed as though Takhbork and Fiilmor had known each other their whole lives. Certainly, they must have been acquainted in the forges of Barad'dûr.

"Oh," Takhbork sighed. "Years an' years," he said. "Bloody eye… at least twenty years afore the fall."

Cadoc nearly dropped the arrow shaft in his hands. "Twenty years?" he repeated, surprised. "How old are you?"

"Me? Bit over fifty, I'd guess. Fiil's a tad younger'n that."

Eyeing his goblin friend, Cadoc had to admit that he never guessed Takhbork was older than him. "And here, I always thought you called me 'lad' as a term of affection. I did not realize you were seven years my senior."

"Oh?" Now Takhbork eyed him curiously. "Why's that?"

"Well, you aren't even greying."

The goblin burst into a fit of laughter. Cadoc blinked at him. "Ain't greying," he snorted. "Oh, that's fine. I got a good hundred or two years afore that starts. Here, I thought you were gonna say it were because yer taller."

"Well," Cadoc said lightly, "there is that…"

Takhbork tagged his arm a little harder. "Yer gettin' cute again."

"Many pardons," Cadoc apologized. The goblin shook his head, sensing his insincerity. "I am curious," Cadoc continued, his tone more serious, "in all those years, you two have only had Gruk?" Noting Takhbork's grim expression he quickly added, "You do not need to answer that."

"Gruk's our only lad," Takhbork confirmed. "When the Eye was about, we was in the forges, an' even after we swore ta be _shaûk_ , havin' a brat weren't the best idea. If I got Fiil knocked up, they might'a sent her to the breedin' pits. She's a big girl, for goblin stock, and more'a our girls were gettin' called down as the War started up. She kept herself useful in the forge, so the pitmaster couldn't think about shippin' her off." His voice became sad and far away. "Would'a fuckin' killed me, if she were sent down there. Prob'ly woulda never seen her again."

"I am glad that did not happen," Cadoc said, his voice soft.

"Me too," Takhbork agreed and grinned. "Anyhow, it were only 'bout a two're three years ago that she really started thinkin' 'bout sprogs. Never really seemed interested in 'em before. Guess, with all the kids about, she felt like havin' one'a her own. She seems happy with the one. Ain't even mentioned givin' him any siblings."

"Well," Cadoc said thoughtfully, "I think he has found a sister in Dera."

"Yea," Takhbork agreed. "They're a cute pair."

"Well, they are a bit young for _pairing_ ," Cadoc said gruffly.

"Yer gonna be one'a _them_ , ain't ya?" Takhbork snorted. Before Cadoc could ask him what _that_ meant, he continued. "Yer gonna hear nothin' but crap about it, but I can't see you bein' a normal dad."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, I'm sure you noticed, most folks stay outta their kid's business."

"She is barely over a month old," Cadoc said primly. "She _has_ no business of her own."

" _Skai_ , you ain't tellin' me yer gonna sit back an' let her run all over the den when she's that age."

Cadoc had not thought about Dera at _that age_. He could not even think of his son at _that age_ and Holgar _was_ that age. "Takhbork," Cadoc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I feel as though I have enough stress without worrying about Dera's social life fifteen years from now."

"Fifteen? That's a late bloomer."

Cadoc tagged his arm. Hard.

"Ow, dammit!" Takhbork grumbled, rubbing his smarted bicep. "I were just joking. Shit. Forget I said nothin'."

"Very well," Cadoc agreed.

The goblin smith eyed him warily. "You get worked up over the queerest stuff."

"Consider it a cultural difference," Cadoc said.

Takhbork shrugged nonchalantly and picked up another arrow to fletch. "Fair enough," he said.

Several more silent minutes passed before Cadoc guiltily added, "I do apologize for striking you."

"Bloody eye," Takhbork sighed. "I swear, Cadoc, one'a these day's yer gonna say yer sorry an' I'm gonna bloody deck ya."

"I'm..."

Takhbork glared at him.

"...out of glue," Cadoc finished, examining his pot. "Could I have some of yours?"

The smith poured a little of the viscous, brown glue from his pot to Cadoc's and went back to the arrow shaft in his lap. "Thank you," Cadoc said brightly as he lined another bisected rachis. "Sorry to trouble you for it."

"Yer such a little shit, sometimes."

Cadoc laughed.

With the bellows not running and the fires only a quiet hiss of charcoal, the _click, click_ of someone walking towards the open forge door was quite audible, even to Cadoc. He and Takhbork turned from their task to see who it was. Fiilmor poked her head around the corner. Her red eyes held a hint of concern.

"Hey, you hens," she greeted, sounding nervous. "Thought you'd like to know, the Glokong folk're here.

"Yea?" Takhbork said and shared a look with Cadoc. "Is the chief doin' somethin' formal?"

"Well…" she frowned. " _Nar_ , not a bit. They're just settlin' in, but I figured I'd warn Cadoc."

"Why would I need warning?"

"Ah, that is, I figured I'd let you know…"

"C'mon Fiil," Takhbork sighed. "Spit it out."

"Rukhash's mum is here."

* * *

"She's such a pretty little thing," Hegdash cooed as she held her sleepy granddaughter.

Rukhash had shown her around the sparse den she shared with her _shaûk_. Even if Hegdash had no idea that her daughter shared her bed with a Man, the smell would have tipped her off right away. He was everywhere in there. Now, they sat on the modest little porch just outside, next to a small fire. Dera had been fed, and they finished off the fish her _shaûk_ had caught her. Hegdash glanced up at the small plaque above their cave, bemused.

"So, are you going to tell me why you have a fox above yer den?"

"Oh," Rukhash glanced up at the _Nothrim Taith_ Cadoc had just finished carving. "'At's Cadoc's family crest."

An amused smile tugged at Hegdash's lips. "He has a crest?"

Her amusement doubled as her daughter straightened her back and corrected, " _We_ have a crest."

"I see."

"It's, like, a tradition for his folk ta put it above their doors," she added, deflating a little under her mother's gaze.

"I see."

"He's been a real sport about doin' stuff the orcish way since we been here. A little plaque ain't no issue, I figure."

"I see."

Frowning, Rukhash huffed, a little annoyed. "What do ya see?"

"Are ya worried I won't like him, Rukhash?"

She fidgeted. Ever since she was a child, Hegdash knew when her daughter was nervous, because she would immediately stare at her hands and play with her claws, or tug at her hem, or chew her lip, squirming. Hegdash didn't need a second sense to tell when her daughter was uneasy. "I just don't want ya ta hold it against him."

"That he's a _tark_?" Hegdash queried and her daughter nodded. "Well I don't see why I would." She glanced down at a sleeping Dera and pushed a lazy curl behind her pointed ear. "Not when he's gone an' given me such a pretty granddaughter."

"Dad didn't seem particularly keen on 'im."

"At least he didn't try ta kill 'im," Hegdash offered helpfully. Rukhash's pout increased and her mother laughed brightly. "Oh, my poor bird! Yer dad likes him 'bout as much as he ever will. _Tark_ or Orc or Troll, I don't think it'd matter to yer dad. He'd find a reason to spit an' growl about it no matter what. He's always been too protective of you."

"I guess."

Leaning over, Hegdash nuzzled Rukhash's crown. "I ain't holdin' nothin' against him," she said. "I can see well enough how much you like him. I plan on givin' yer _shaûk_ a fair shake."

Rukhash smiled, her vision a little blurry. "Thanks mum," she sniffed.

"Oh, none of that!" Hegdash laughed and tweaked Rukhash's chin. Then her gaze fell lower, to something on Rukhash's chest. Her mother's eyes went distant for a minute, her face falling into a serious expression.

"Mum?"

Hegdash blinked herself back, and smiled. She brushed her thumb lightly over Rukhash's breastbone. "It's nothing, my heart. Just somethin' I've been seein' more of these past years."

Rukhash gave her a quizzical look, but Hegdash quickly changed the subject. "So, why don't you tell me 'bout this Ranmor. Bitch sure hates my guts fer no reason."

Hazarding a furtive glance towards Ranmor's perch, and seeing that she was occupied by a conversation with Bregut, Rukhash turned towards her mother and hissed, " _Skai_ , mum, I don't want ta play in-betweens."

"Well, I ain't askin' ya to!" Hegdash huffed. "But throw yer mum a bone, fer fuck's sake. I gotta have a talk with this girl, an' she's gonna have me at the end'a my rope real quick. And you know how I get when my rope runs out."

Her mother must have sensed her hesitation. "I ain't here ta start no fights, Rukhash. But if our clans're gonna become _Turuk Nur_ , there's things me'n her have'ta discuss. I can't have her throwin' a hissy fit 'cause I'm an uruk."

"She's just had a bad run with uruk-folk is all…"

"Well, so've most folk, but business is business. The War's done, ain't it? An' the goblin folk and' uruk folk in our tribe 'ave been gettin' along fer over a decade now. The group what come ta help you is mixed. That ain't countin' fer nothin'?"

"Ranmor's real proud, mum," Rukhash explained. "I guess, if you should know anythin' you should know that. Don't think she'll be too keen on you if you start ta throw yer weight around."

"Well, I can soft-foot it, but I can't do that forever. I'm only stayin' a day're two, then I'm off. I'd like ta settle what needs settlin' afore then. It's a four day trip here. Not exactly somethin' I have a chance ta to once a week, 'til she decides she feels like talkin'."

"You're leavin' so soon?"

"I got things ta look after back home, little heart. So, how 'bout you give yer old mum a bit of advice fer once?"

Sighing, Rukhash glanced back at Ranmor. She must have finished her business with Bregut, because she was sitting with Bhrafmor now; separating her daughter's coarse, dark hair for braiding. "Just… don't corner her," Rukhash offered. "She's been cornered enough. An'... I don't know, she seems to appreciate when you're respectful."

Hegdash gave her an exasperated look. "And that's all you have for me?"

Rukhash shrugged.

"How'd you get her ta like _you_?"

"I ain't really sure she _does_ like me," Rukhash admitted. "We're on good terms, you know? But we don't really sit with each other all that often. I sorta took after mentorin' Bhrafmor. I guess that went a lot towards her not hatin' me."

"Ah, my Rukhash… you never did have a head fer strategy."

Shrugging again, Rukhash said, "I always managed arright wit'out it."

Hegdash shook her head. "Well, it'll have ta do." Glancing towards the far end of the cave, she smiled. "Ah," she sighed, her expression taking on the same amusement from earlier. "There's yer _tark_."

Following her mother's gaze, Rukhash caught sight of Cadoc as he emerged from the side tunnel that led to the forge, Takhbork not far behind him. He waved to the smith as they parted ways and he passed a cluster of Glokong soldiers. He caught a few, odd looks from two or three of them, but Cadoc kept walking, heading straight for their den. Though, Rukhash was sure he had seen the dirty look that the one, _shara_ Man among the soldiers shot him. That kind of animosity was hard to miss.

Beside her, Hegdash huffed. "I'll have ta talk ta Baan before I leave," she muttered.

As her _shaûk_ approached, Rukhash noted the nervous look on his face. No doubt he was expecting a repeat of the meeting with her father. Hegdash passed a sleeping Dera off to Rukhash and stood, climbing down the small stair to meet Cadoc on even footing. Rukhash was a little startled to realize they were both the same height.

Cadoc stopped a little more than an arm's length from Hegdash and offered her a polite nod. He looked as if he had no idea what to say to her, and Rukhash's mother didn't seem to be in the mood to offer any assistance. "Ma'am," he said, finally.

Rukhash watched her mother offer the same, indulgent smile she remembered from her younger years. " _Bleser gennuv â chi_ ," she said in the lyrical tongue of the Dunlending, and returned his polite nod.

Cadoc blinked at her for a moment. " _Chi hevud_ ," he said, as though it was a reflex. "Though, I am afraid you will find my Dunlandish does not extend far beyond that."

"'At's a shame," she said wistfully. "I was hopin' ta find someone else ta speak it with asides my brother and sis. Norgash butchers it and Kilrum don't really care ta speak it all that often."

"I am sorry to disappoint, but I'm afraid I have not spoken it much since my grandmother passed when I was a lad."

Hegdash tilted her head to the side curiously and took a step towards him. Cadoc did not move, though he did cast a furtive glance towards Rukhash before fixing his attention back on her mother.

Lightly taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger, Hegdash scrutinized his face. "Let's have a look at you," she whispered as she did this, and then was silent for several long seconds.

Cadoc found that, for whatever reason, he could not look away. Hegdash's eyes took on an oddly dull cast for a moment, and then suddenly went sharp and bright. She smiled at him, but it was not the same sort of smile she offered him a moment ago. She looked almost… gentle. "It's nice ta see my Rukhash got herself such fine taste in males," she said, and released his chin.

He let out his breath in a great whoosh, not even aware that he had been holding it. As Hegdash climbed back to the top of the porch, Cadoc caught Rukhash's gaze and mouthed, quite bemused, _What was_ _ **that**_ _?_

Rukhash shrugged and shook her head, her eyes wide. She obviously was just as perplexed as he was.

"So," Hegdash said brightly as she took a seat, "why don't we all have a sit an' you can tell me a bit about yerself, Cadoc."

Cadoc ducked his head. "Yes ma'am," he said. Feeling strangely like a nervous child, Cadoc climbed the steps of the porch and sat beside his _shaûk_.

Rukhash patted his back sympathetically. "It'll be fine," she assured him.

Hegdash smiled.

* * *

**Translations**

_Bleser gennuv â chi._ (Dunlandish*) It's a pleasure to meet you.

 _Chi hevud._ (Dunlandish*) You also.

* I am pulling my Dunlending tongue from a LotR roleplaying blog (which is the closest thing I could find as far as Dunlending constructed language goes). It relies heavily on Welsh, so if some of those words look familiar to Welsh speakers, that is why.


	64. Settling In

**Splint**

**Chapter 64: Settling In**

* * *

She knew it was coming. Even before Dufkarn hoisted himself on her perch, Ranmor could tell he wanted to speak with her. Whenever Dufkarn desired a conference, he would spend a period before pacing his own perch, muttering under his breath, before mustering the balls to come over to hers. He was collecting himself for an argument, readying his defense. When it came to their oft tumultuous discussions, Dufkarn liked to be well prepared to avoid losing his temper. In all the years they had ruled alongside one another, they had only come to blows once. No, for all of his faults, as leaders went, Dufkarn was measured. Ranmor was sure it had something to do with all the years he had to play go between for his uruk captain.

But considering the hour he had spent preparing for this conversation, Ranmor imagined what he was going to say would both be something she did not like, and would have something to do with Hegdash, so she decided to preempt the discussion to throw him off his mark.

"I'll do it my own way," she said before the Chief could get settled in.

"Didn't say nothin'."

"Don't _need_ ta say nothin."

Glancing towards the females with her, Dufkarn waved his arm. "Get, you three." With a nod from Ranmor, Sograt, Rathratk and Hebur gave the chief a sour look before slinking off.

Noticing Bhrafmor in the corner, Dufkarn added, "You too, brat."

Annoyed with the casual insult, Ranmor grasped her daughter's arm before she could rise. "You don't talk to her like that," she said sharply.

Gently brushing her mother's grip off, Bhrafmor shook her head. "Wanted to talk ta Grazad 'bout something, anyhow." She nodded politely to her mother and towards Dufkarn before hopping off the stone perch and heading to the rear of the cavern.

Dufkarn eyed their daughter with something like appreciation. "She's grown up loads these past few months." He gave Ranmor a critical look. "'Bout time you quit hoverin' over her."

"You ain't got no say in it."

He sighed. "That were the deal," he mumbled. His sharp eyes fixed on her. "An' there were more to the deal than that. Yer head girl. You got more ta do than just see to the den here."

"I know it."

" _You're_ supposed to be the... _diplomatic_ one, fer fucks sake."

"I _know_ it."

"Well, if you bleedin' _know_ it, then why're you actin' like a bleedin' arse? Rukhash's mum has been here for bloody hours, and you ain't approached her once."

"If she wants to talk, she can come to _me_."

Dufkarn slammed his fist down so suddenly, Ranmor nearly jumped. "They ain't asked _us_ to be _Turak Nur_ , Ranmor," he hissed through his teeth. "I get why you want the high ground, but we ain't got high ground in this."

"She's slippery, that one," Ranmor growled. "I ain't given her any more of an edge than she has. Think on it: you seen how Gijakzi was with Rukhash. They ain't doin' nothin so long as she's here, and she ain't goin' nowhere so long as Grazad's here. Even you can see how those two are with each other."

"I can."

"So, Rukhash's mum'll come to me, and she'll be nice about it. We'll have our chat then."

Dufkarn frowned. "Don't push, Ranmor," he warned. "Whatever yer tryin' at, don't take it too far."

Ranmor gave him a dour look. "It kills me, you know," she said. "I been yer _shatroklob_ fer more'n a decade, an' you still don't trust me ta know what I'm about. You think I got ta be sittin' here cause'a my _looks_."

"I seen you fight fer your spot," Dufkarn admitted. "I know that ain't true."

"You ain't the only one what cares about the clan, you know."

"...didn't say I was."

"So," Ranmor huffed, " _trust_ me now. You may not think much'a me as a mum, but Bhrafmor didn't turn into a decent girl because of _Rukhash_ showin' up a few months ago. And the girls don't have me in top spot because there ain't no one else wants it."

Dufkarn sat back on his heels and took a long, deep breath. "I didn't mean it like that."

"'Course you did."

He looked away with an infuriatingly unreadable expression, but Ranmor could feel that she won this argument. It was odd feeling victory, because she really had no animosity for Dufkarn. He was a good chief. They struck a bargain, and he'd always held up his end. Ranmor hadn't really thought about it before – it always felt as though they were in constant competition – but Dufkarn was a really stand-up bloke.

She laid a thin hand on his shoulder, and he jumped a little as he turned towards her. "I'll do what needs doin'," she assured him, her tone gentler. "And I promise: I won't bring no shame yer way… So, if you still wanted ta try and give 'er a hit before she gits tomorrow…"

He snorted. "Nah, I think Turgrat's kinda jealous."

"He always did have that streak."

"He did," Dufkarn agreed. With a quick appraisal of her, he added. "I'll leave this ta you then."

"I appreciate you bringin' up yer concerns," Ranmor stated grandly, straightening her shoulders.

Dufkarn barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Yer a fuckin' piece of work," he grumbled before hopping down and heading to his own den. Ranmor went to find Hegdash.

* * *

In the course on an hour, Hegdash discovered that Rukhash had managed to attach herself to the least exciting Man alive. She peppered Cadoc with mostly polite questions, in an attempt to discover his temperament and history: Where did he come from; where was his family; and – after finding out they were all in west Gondor, tilling land – why he became a Ranger. This brought the Man sitting next to her daughter some discomfort, but he did answer.

"My father was a Ranger of Gondor," he supplied, "like his father before him."

 _Ah_ , Hegdash thought wryly, amused, _following after your father_. _How like a son._

She imagined a Man of Cadoc's age, with his profession and a War behind him must have a share of stories, but Hegdash doubted she would find them of much interest. Not because he fought for the other side. Bloodshed was bloodshed, and Hegdash liked a good, bloody story. Kragolnauk always had an amusing tale or two to tell about his adventures on raids, but Cadoc didn't seem like the pillaging type. Long accounts of battles fought honorably would drive her to sleep. Gijakzi had asked this of her – to divine what she could about their daughter's partner – and she had bent to him because she appreciated his concern for Rukhash. Gijakzi had a soft spot for his offspring. Though too grown for a mother's intervention, Hegdash also cared for her daughter, and wanted to see her with a suitable partner. She would be pleased to tell Gijakzi that there was nothing in Cadoc that was worth worrying over. If anything, Hegdash was surprised Rukhash had chosen someone so mild in character. Deciding that she had interviewed him enough, Hegdash stood and bade both Cadoc and her daughter a good evening before heading off to see to her other duties here.

Considering the tumultuous series of events that plagued her daughter in the years after the War, Hegdash could understand her desire for a little monotony. Rukhash was like her father in that way. Gijakzi liked things ordered and predictable, so he could make little notes and timetables. It was a habit that made him a good pit boss and, as an extension of that, a good chief. A little excitement now and again kept things interesting, in Hegdash's opinion, but before she could search out Ranmor and have _their_ little chat, or delve a into the mystery of Old Granny, she had to do the responsible thing and make sure Botarg had everything she needed. Dufkarn seemed more than eager to please. Hegdash was sure she could have any issues resolved quickly when it came to the comfort of her folk.

They did _look_ fairly comfortable, from what Hegdash could see. Most were lounging about, playing bones, or card games or sharpening weapons or taking a nap before the late evening meal. Though the area of the den they were situated in was a little off the main room, the narrow tunnel connected them was wide and high, giving them a clear view of the chief's perch and the rear exit. This would allow them both privacy and scrutiny and, Hegdash was sure, meant they would not mingle too much with the Gundbrashaal. Orcs did not usually seek friendships outside their comfortable clicks unless it was required. Hegdash hoped Dufkarn was wise enough to have the warriors spar together. They would need that camaraderie in a fight.

Things seemed quiet, but Hegdash would check with Botarg to make sure. She was better versed in the needs of her warriors. Her oldest, living daughter was with Rishgnak and Hiskut. They sat around a low, flickering fire just outside a shallow cave at the edge of the area designated for the Glokong warriors. It was an amusing trio, the broad shouldered silhouettes of Botarg and Rishgnak flanking the narrow frame of Hiskut. Though they were rolling dice, none of the three females had their hearts in the game. Hiskut's eyes were on her new husband. Glancing briefly in Baan's direction, Hegdash was pleased he finally stopped staring Cadoc down and was going about his own business: playing a hand of cards with Ishî. Rishgnak seemed concerned with Botarg, who looked as though a weight had been fastened around her neck. This was Botarg's first lengthy mission away from home as Captain.

"You seem all set," Hegdash said as she approached her daughter.

"They done a nice job getting things cozy," Botarg admitted.

"Our caverns are far grander," Hiskut said with the haughty arrogance Hegdash had come to associate with the uruks from Rarmoz Mal, even though she wasn't born there. "But they seem to have done their best with what they have." Though they were positioned off the main cave, all of the crevices and caves along the far wall had been furnished with gently used bedding and woven mats. Back home, the Glokong tribe enjoyed a few more amenities. Gijakzi had several working wells peppered around the caves, and the floors had been laid with flat stone by the many mason's that now resided with them.

But they had done a fair share of construction because the roughly hewn caverns of the northern cliffs demanded it, and they had the manpower to see those projects to completion. When he was younger, and his clan smaller, Gijakzi's caves would have been considered downright inhospitable. That was what Hegdash had found when Gijakzi led them there. They had slept on sharp, uneven, stone floors and the wind howled through the caves like a pack of wargs.

"You used to sleep on the bloody ground," Hegdash said with a smirk. "Yer getting soft, with no War about ta keep you sharp, Kaalazal'Hiskut."

Kaalazal'Hiskut sniffed indelicately.

Hegdash turned to her daughter's _shaûk_ , "What about you, Rishgnak? Any worries?"

She shrugged, looking skyward. "Feckin' mountain's buryin' us. Aside that, I got no issues."

"So," Hegdash sighed, "all's well, and I ain't got to lodge no complaints with no one?" Three heads shook to the negative, and Hegdash turned to leave, but stopped suddenly, remembering. She a hard look on Hiskut. "You make sure that husband of yers don't start no shit with my Rukhash's _shaûk_ ," she growled, her tone suddenly dark. "I ain't gonna be this polite about it again, if I need ta take the issue up with him myself."

"Baan will behave himself," Hiskut assured her quickly, her superior look fading into something more anxious. "I assure you, honored _shaktroklob_ , you will not need to speak with him."

Hegdash nodded sharply and added in a lighter tone, "And tell that crazy dad'a yers ta keep the skirt chasin' to a minimum. I don't think most'a the lads here'll appreciate Ishî's wooin'."

A laugh erupted from Hiskut's throat. " _That_ I cannot promise."

* * *

"I'll take three," the old, Black Uruk stated as he lay three, tattered cards in the center pile. Baan dealt him three cards before examining his own hand. He possessed a solid matching suit, but he was only a few cards away from a Guard's Rush.

Though they were not playing for stakes, Ishî was the worst kind of winner. Most Black Uruks were. Baan did not look forward to hearing the old soldier chide him for the rest of the night. He already felt on edge among this foreign clan. Baan trusted Gijakzi's judgement, and was sure that an alliance with this clan would benefit their own tribe, but the press of stone around him; the numerous, strange Orcs eyeing him up; the _tark_ lurking at the far end of the den; all of these things had him in a more anxious mood than usual.

Also, Baan hated to lose. So, there was that.

"Trade a card or make a call," Ishî said with a sure smile, his scarred face crinkling with dry humor. "My arse is goin' numb."

"Give me a minute," Baan grumbled, reshuffling his cards. His fingers wavered tentatively above two he thought to discard.

"Hegdash's chattin' with Hiskut," Ishî said idly, scratching his neck.

Baan wondered if the old soldier was trying to throw him off. "Hegdash is most likely just engaging her in conversation because she is sitting with Botarg," he replied breezily.

"They's lookin' right at'cha."

He did not reply to that, tossing two cards and retrieving two more from the deck, wincing at his new hand.

"Yer fuckin' shit at cards," Ishî growled, throwing down the set in his hand. "Show too much in the face, you do. I told'ja ta keep yer head down while's you were here, but no one listens to old Ishî."

Baan glared at his hand. "I listen, Ishî," he said tightly. "But it is hard to keep my head down with a _tark_ in the same den."

"You let it be," Ishî warned. "That's the chief's daughter this _tark_ 's knockin' boots with – Hegdash's too – and I'd be more worried 'bout what _she'd_ do ta ya than Gijakzi. He'd just kill ya fer doin' somethin' stupid. Hegdash…" Ishî shuddered. "who the fuck knows what she'd do. You heard what happened to Thraknut. So, you behave yer fuckin' self."

"Do you worry for me, _father_?" Baan asked with an amused smile.

"Shaddup wit' that, you," the Black Uruk rumbled. "Think yer so bleedin' cute, do ya? Only Hiskut gets ta call me that. Just 'cause yer her husband'r whatever the fuck you folk call it, don't mean you get them same liberties. You keep pullin' that, an' I'll have yer tongue fer it." The old Orc waved a fist at him in half-hearted threat.

"As you say," Baan said with an impish smile as he gathered the cards up and began shuffling. "Shall I deal another hand?"

"Still sittin' here, ain't I?"

* * *

"That went better'n I could've hoped," Rukhash said, loudly sucking on a bone.

Cadoc blinked at her. Their sit-down with Hegdash had come and gone with little more than light small talk. He was surprised Rukhash was still preoccupied by it. An hour later, she seemed ready to discuss what Cadoc thought was an uneventful conversation considering everything they _could_ discuss. He glanced briefly at Grazad but she was preoccupied making quiet, cooing noises at Dera, her late-evening meal mostly untouched.

"Were you so worried?" Cadoc asked. "You told me your mother had a milder temper than your father."

"She does," Rukhash said with a shrug. "Got a meaner streak than dad, though."

"She seemed remarkably pleasant," Cadoc said. "Though a bit odd, with that strange look she gave me when we met. What _was_ that about?"

"Already told you, I ain't got a clue. Mum used ta do that every now and again when she was sizing someone up fer a fight, but she didn't seem keen on fightin' ya."

"I am relieved for that." Cadoc admitted. "You did not mention your mother spoke Dunlending."

Rukhash shrugged. "Never thought'a it. She only really ever spoke it with granddad, or with her sisters, if she didn't want no one ta know what they was plannin'. I picked some up hangin' around them. Not much, though. Could probably hold somethin' like a conversation, if I really tried at it. I understand it more'n I can speak it."

"That is how it is for me as well," Cadoc noted. "I am too long out of practice."

"I don't think she really cared about speaking Dunlending with you, Caodc."

"Nor I," Cadoc agreed. "Though it _did_ make me wish I had kept up with the tongue a little. I would speak it with my grandmother often, while she was still alive. My father was more concerned I learn Sindarin than Dunlending. That is what we mainly spoke around the house when he was was home."

"They kinda ain't so different. I can barely pronounce both of 'em."

"They do share some melodic qualities," Cadoc noted.

"What're you two talking about?"

Cadoc glanced back at Grazad. Dera was passed out on the old woman's lap, her mouth slightly parted as she made silent, sucking motions. Grazad tucked a tiny, wild curl behind her baby ear. "Dreamin' about her mum."

Rukhash smiled and scooped Dera out of Grazad's lap, heading into their cave.

"You are a wonder," Cadoc said. "I cannot get her to sleep, Rukhash cannot get her to sleep–"

"A granny always does it," the old Orcess said, a pleased, creased smile on her face. "She's gettin' to where she realizes all the fun she's missin'."

"I suppose she is," Cadoc replied, thoughtful. He really wasn't sure how to gauge where Dera was in her development. She was leaps and bounds past where his son was at this tender age, but not _quite_ as far along as an Orcling would have been, by Grazad and Rukhash's opinion.

Looking back towards the main den, Cadoc was relieved that things seemed quiet. The dirty look he had received from the Mannish warrior with the Glokong had not gone without notice. Cadoc imagined he was a young man during the War – probably close to Hedon in age – but youth did not spare young men from service. No doubt he had some old animosities that needed sorting out.

Cadoc turned over the small slab of bread he was holding. He had Bregut to thank for this odd comfort. She had learned to make bread from one of her fellow washerwomen in Barad Dur; a Mannish _snaga_. It was a rare occasion for her to gather enough wild grain to pull together a few, flat loaves – the last time she had done it, Dera had been born and Cadoc earned his mark and she had made it as a gift. Cadoc supposed she considered this gathering a good reason to go through all the trouble, though few of the Orcs seemed interested in her handiwork.

"Don't know how you can eat that stuff," Grazad said as she made for her own plate. "It's so bleedin' _dry_."

"Not nearly as dry as the _Dohmaflok_ roots you roast," Cadoc said, taking a bite. "Bregut is an excellent baker."

Grazad snorted. "You hear them sweet noises he's makin?" she said over his shoulder.

"Least someone appreciates all the trouble I went through," Bregut said as she approached the little porch where Cadoc and Grazad sat. Fiilmor was with her, and Cadoc craned his neck to see if Takhbork was just behind her, around the bend. Instead, Ashplak sauntered into view.

"He's gettin' Hurug," the old goblin told Cadoc, knowing who he was looking for. "And I'm here for you."

"For _me_."

"Yea, for _you_ ," Ashplak gave Cadoc a knowing look. "We're goin' ta play bones with some'a the new folk. Go'n make nice an all. Meet that Man they got with 'em, what keeps given' you hairy eyeballs."

"Is that right?"

The old Orc nodded. Cadoc glanced at Rukhash as she emerged from the mouth of their cave. "How is Dera?" he asked.

"Sleeping."

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm going to play a game or two with the lads."

She shrugged as Bregut and Fiilmor climbed onto the porch. "Have fun," she said idly, waving him off. he grabbed his pair of dice, tucking them into his boot. Envy fluttered in his gut as the four women settled in for what would probably be a relaxing evening. Cadoc was very sure that was _not_ what this game of bones would be about. No, this was probably as close to reconnaisance mission as he had been on since his last stint patrolling the border.

As he crossed the main den with Ashplak to where the visiting warriors were quartered, Cadoc took a sly peek in the direction of the den mother's perch. Hegdash was there, talking to Ranmor in low tones. He couldn't read their expressions, though they seemed friendly enough. "How do you think _that's_ going?" Cadoc asked Ashplak.

"Yea, you heard about Ranmor gettin' uppity?"

"I did."

"She seems ta have settled it. Or Dufkarn had her settle it. Them two had a chat between themselves and she pulled Hegdash aside finally and started chattin'."

"Well, that sounds promising."

"So far."

They went silent as they approached the area set out for the Glokong warriors. A little group had gathered with Takhbork and Hurug. Botarg was there – though Cadoc found it odd she had not once sought out her sister since arriving. She was sitting with another uruk hai woman and two uruk hai males that looked a few years their junior. Two, long-armed goblins were arguing with Takhbork over the board, though Cadoc could not make out what they were saying. He noticed they had a similar hair pattern as his smith friend. There was the Man that traveled with the Glokong who seemed preoccupied speaking to a thin, tall uruk woman that flanked him on one side.

On the other side of him was an old, large, Black Uruk with extensive scars on his face and Cadoc paused momentarily, startled. Ashplak noticed this and glanced back at him with an uncharacteristically concerned look.

"You arright, lad?"

Swallowing, Cadoc nodded and continued walking, willing himself to calm down. Orcs could sense tenseness, and that was not the first impression Cadoc wanted to make with these guests, though he now felt more anxious than he had since Srigzhut wanted to compare body counts.

That Black Uruk was the same soldier that had injured him at the Gates of Morannon.


	65. White Knuckled

**Splint  
** **Chapter 65: White Knuckled**

* * *

The night was wearing on her sooner than Hegdash would have liked. Ranmor had been congenial enough when she first approached, requesting a conversation, but she quickly became as obstinate as when Hegdash first arrived. Niceties aside, they needed to discuss how they would go about exchanging tribe members to ensure shared bloodlines within their groups. Ranmor wouldn't hear of Uruk males taking up the job of siring young with their girls, and she wasn't willing to spare their males to the Glokong tribe for the time it would take to ensure a fair bargain struck between mates.

"And what about goblins from our tribe coming _here_?" Hegdash asked, resisting the urge to rub her temple.

Ranmor paused at that, considering. "Only if my girls get ta pick who they want."

"And how do you expect them to do that, heart, if you don't want them travelin' north to our tribe?"

"Well," Ranmor huffed, "send extra."

She had to be kidding. What did she want Hegdash to do? Pack up half of the unattached goblin males in her tribe and march them four days south for the prospect of siring an offspring they would most likely never see? More than a few of those lads were going to be pissed if they weren't picked. Never mind what Gijakzi would say to her about striking a shoddy bargain like that.

Hegdash gave her an exasperated look. "You could bloody _pretend_ that you've done this shit before."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"It means I ain't sendin' a score'a lads down here for a maybe an' a wish. I'm _shatroklob_ , not a bloody war captain." Hegdash crossed her arms resolutely. "How 'bout you try a hand at bein' reasonable."

Hegdash didn't need to poke around in the goblin's brain to know she had offended her. Ranmor scowled darkly. "I ain't havin' my girls taken advantage of."

_...She seems to appreciate when you're respectful_. That's what Rukhash had said to her when she asked for advice, but Hegdash felt as though she had been more than respectful. Ranmor had her in an awkward spot, and there was nothing Hegdash hated more than awkward spots. They wouldn't even be having this conversation if Rukhash wasn't here. Gijakzi would have never sent warriors to aid Dufkarn if the Gundbarashal chief hadn't taken in their daughter.

Glancing back towards Rukhash's den, Hegdash realized that Bhrafmor had joined her daughter and the old healer at some point during this trying conversation. Ranmor's girl was chatting Rukhash up about something, her face radiant with excitement. Hegdash decided to try another tactic... "Our girls get on pretty well, yea?"

Distracted from her insult, Ranmor turned in time to catch Rukhash patting Bhrafmor on the back. They looked right chummy from where Hegdash was sitting. Ranmor agreed. "Yea," she acquiesced, her voice quiet. "She's a good kid, yer Rukhash." The Gundbarashal _shatroklob_ glanced sidelong at her guest. "But I get a feelin' she don't get that from _you_."

Hegdash was a little surprised by the cheek, but laughed. "That's true enough," she admitted, grinning. "Rukhash always took more after her dad. Gijakzi's got a decent streak a mile wide if you can find it under all his bitchin' an' bluster." Her smile widened menacingly. "It's a minor defect of character."

Ranmor frowned.

"I don't care 'at you don't like me," Hegdash continued, deciding to cut the subtle tactics and make a go at blunt. "I don't like you neither. But it don't matter 'at we don't like each other. I ain't here ta fuck you – one way or another. We're ta be _Turuk Nur_ , and 'at means either you send some lads our way to whelp with a few girls or I send some lads here for the same purpose. So you tell me how you want it done, heart, 'cause I ain't in no mood fer dancin' round an' round no more."

Ranmor's frown deepened and she turned away, fixing her attention on Bhrafmor and Rukhash's friendly conversation. It was less animated than it had been earlier, but still seemed more than cordial.

Hegdash concentrated her slippery sixth sense on the female sitting across from her. She could not reveal the thoughts of others, but she could feel impressions, sensations, emotion. It wasn't as clear a sense as hearing or smelling or seeing, but Hegdash had exploited it long enough to make it useful. Ranmor was torn by something, anxious about more than Hegdash's presence, and it had to do with her daughter specifically. Hegdash couldn't guess more than that from her extra faculty alone. Frustrated by her limitation, she focused again on Bhrafmor.

There wasn't much that stood out about Bhrafmor. Not smart but not stupid. Not particularly good looking, but not arse ugly either. As girls went, she was rather plain. She was young, just on the cusp of breeding...

With sudden inspiration, Hegdash realized what had Ranmor so edgy. Many of her girls were already pregnant, and soon after a prior pregnancy, by Rukhash's account. They would not be able to safely bear young for a few years yet. Hegdash wondered how many of the other females here were attached in some way that made taking on a foreign mate –no matter how temporary– not possible. Perhaps enough that she was worried Bhrafmor would be forced to breed with a male before she was ready. Hegdash had only met the girl in passing, but despite her sharp tongue, there was a startling amount of innocence in that child. More than any child in Orthanc had possessed. Sprogs born after the War had an impressively bright spark right from the start.

"She's too young fer it," Hegdash said aloud. "Even if her heat come tomorrow, I wouldn't expect her ta carry a sprog for years yet. Ain't safe. Anyone knows that." Ranmor turned towards her, gaping like a stranded fish. ' _Like I can read your mind, yea?'_ Hegdash thought, amused.

"I only got one're two girls that'll be free fer it this spring," Ranmor admitted. "Three, if I'm countin' myself."

Hegdash had a feeling Ranmor preferred not to count herself. So, she didn't think she had enough girls to satisfy the Glokong Tribe's requirements. That's what had her so edgy and disagreeable. Hegdash supposed she could send some females south to mate with available males here, but that seemed an unnecessary tax on _her_ girls. If Ranmor would not suggest that option, Hegdash wouldn't offer it. Besides, she already had a girl here.

"I'm fine fer one girl, if that's all you've got," she said, and Ranmor looked immediately relieved. Perhaps she already had a volunteer. "You got Rukhash and my grandbaby here," Hegdash continued. "They count fer somethin' too. Asides," Hegdash smirked, deciding to lighten the mood, "'ere's a few good lookin' young lads what come ta lend a hand here. Yer Bhrafmor might find someone on her own."

Ranmor looked like she swallowed a worm that wriggled the whole way down, and Hegdash resisted the urge to laugh. "You're worse'n Gijakzi."

"She's my only one," Ranmor said, as though that should explain it.

The desire to protect offspring was something Hegdash could understand, but Bhrafmor was not her daughter. Ranmor's attachment meant very little to Hegdash aside from being useful information for later leverage, if she needed it. Ready to steer the conversation back to the task at hand, she said, "So, I'll send a lad this way come spring?"

"Not an Uruk."

Catching herself before she rolled her eyes, Hegdash conceded as graciously as she could, considering how gracious she had been already. "Not an Uruk."

"If he get's cute, I'm sendin' him back."

"Of course, heart."

Ranmor fidgeted. "Well, that's alright, then." She looked put out, but Hegdash could sense her restless unease. There wasn't anything more Ranmor could ask of her, and Hegdash had extended a hand with her offer. It was more than the Gundbarashal deserved, but Gijakzi had insisted she make it work. So, she made it work.

Hegdash stood and stepped elegantly from Ranmor's stony perch. "Then our business is done." She didn't wait for a reply. It was an easy enough bargain, and Hegdash was bored with Ranmor and her go at diplomacy. There was one more thing she wanted to see done before she left. Heading towards the offshoot of the main den– where the members of her own tribe were being kept– she slipped deftly into the tunnel leading towards the lock hole. Checking to make sure she was not noticed by Ranmor, and pleased to find the _shatroklob_ already occupied by several curious females peppering her with questions about their meeting, Hegdash descended the dark stair.

It was time for a chat with Old Granny.

* * *

Cadoc liked to think that meeting Rukhash, falling in love with her, working to become a part of an Orc tribe and learning to live among the Gundbarashal had made him just about as forward thinking as a former Ranger could possibly be. He liked to think that had it been a Man who injured him at the Black Gate, he would feel just as uneasy in that Man's presence. But a failed marriage and estranged son had taught Cadoc to be unerringly truthful with himself. He knew that this anxiety did not stem from meeting a former enemy face to face– even if that enemy _had_ cleaved an impressive hole in his side fourteen years gone. No, his worry came more from the fact that said soldier was a Black Uruk. So, in that moment, Cadoc was unhappy to realize he still had a few prejudices that lingered. However, living among Orcs had given Cadoc a unique perspective on their deportment. There was no way of knowing how and Orc might react to seeing a kill gone wrong in person. It was very possible the Black Uruk could, simply, laugh it off.

It was also possible that he might want to finish the job.

But perhaps the Orc wouldn't mark him at all. They had both been clad in armor then, and if it wasn't for the telling scars the Uruk carried - diagonal burn marks across his chin and eye– Cadoc would not have known him from any other Orc of his breed.

Thankfully, it seemed the Orc did not recognize _him_ from any other _tark_ , because the Black Uruk barely spared him a glance as he took a seat near Takhbork and Ashplak. He sat a little back, on one of the stepped rock formations that encircled the large pit the goblins had started to set the game up in.

A foreign goblin soldier was glaring at Takhbork arguing over the board. "Not standard" was her complaint as she pointed to the small, woven mat they usually played on.

Takhbork took great offense to that. "It's the same board we had in the forges," he said.

"You _snaga_ couldn't never keep no proper game," the female growled.

The smith looked like he had been slapped. Orcs were fairly durable in the face of insults, but that one in particular always seemed to affect his goblin friend especially, and Cadoc bristled on Takhbork's account.

"We've not had issue with this board in the past," Cadoc said cooly. "Did you bring one of your own that you prefer?"

The Orc that slighted his friend glared at him as though she was shocked he had the temerity to speak. Behind her, Ashplak showed his teeth in a smug grin. Cadoc often wondered why he always looked so amused when a fight seemed ready to break out.

"No one asked you, _tark_ ," the foreign goblin sneered.

Botarg's quiet conversation with the female by her side ceased, and she glared balefully at the goblin soldier. " _Shut it,_ Zish," she hissed dangerously.

Zish glared back. "I ain't takin' no lip from no _tark_! It's bad enough I gotta be downwind from his stink." She looked furious, and Botarg did not seem far behind. Rukhash's sister rose to her feet, her fangs bared silently. Orc tempers could be so frustratingly thin! Cadoc wished to defend his friend, not start an altercation, though he _was_ somewhat touched Botarg seemed to be defending him. He set immediately to diffuse the situation.

Sniffing dramatically at his shirt, he raised a brow at Takhbork. "I just bathed this morning," he stated loudly, trying to sound contrite.

Takhbork shrugged with a slow smile. "You don't smell no worse'n you usually do."

Catching what Cadoc was going for, Hurug turned towards Zish and added, "Least you ain't downwind of Ashplak."

"That's a fine perfume, that is." The old goblin snuffed delicately, combing his claws though his greasy, white hair.

Their banter took Zish off guard, and her anger deflated. "Whatever," she grumbled. "Play with whatever board you want." She scrambled up the rocks to her own den.

Another goblin, who had remained silent through their almost altercation, watched her leave, then gave Botarg a knowing look. "Don't know why you brought her along anyhow. Zish ain't never had no good manners." Cadoc was a little startled to realize, by the tenor of her voice, that this Orc was female. She was built wide shouldered and narrow in the hips, giving her more of a male's shape. Clothed in so many layers as she was, Cadoc would have never guessed her gender. But then, Orc femininity was not always on par with what he was accustomed to.

Botarg regarded her, amused. "Not like you, eh Yammat?"

Yammat grinned cheekily and snatched the board from where it had been discarded on the ground, laying it neatly in the center of the assembled Orcs. "So let's play already. I'm fine with yer queer board."

The Black Uruk scratched the loose skin on his neck idly. He had been silent for most of the conversation, watching. "It's a regional difference, I'd wager," he said before rising and joining them on the lower level. He sat directly across from Cadoc, and Cadoc did his best to think happy thoughts.

" _Scoot_ , old timer," Yammat said, elbowing the Black Uruk to the side. He chuckled and obliged her.

"I will play also," the thinner Uruk female announced, sitting next to the Black Uruk. Her manner of speech sounded vaguely like the accent of Khand folk.

Botarg had returned to her seat next to her companion, and made no move to join them. Cadoc gave her a questioning look. "Just watching?"

She seemed surprised that he addressed her directly. "Just watching," she confirmed with a shrug, and leaned back against the female in her company. Cadoc had a strong feeling that they were more than just shield sisters.

Ashplak had taken the spot to Cadoc's right. He produced a pair of dice from the pouch on his belt, though Cadoc was sure the old goblin's spare was already stashed in his arm guards. He could feel his own spare die in his boot, where they pressed into the inside of his ankle. Takhbork was gathering names on a tattered scrap of paper. The Black Uruk was Ishî; the slighter female by his side, Hiskut; Yammat was added to the list; Hurug, Ashplak, Cadoc; and a young, male Uruk hai named Kalaghit, who had rushed in to grab a spot just as Takhbork made final call. Zish returned, but she seemed content to watch from a perch above.

Takhbork turned towards the silent Man that had arrived with the Glokong warriors. "What about you, lad?"

"I will observe," he said. Cadoc noted he sported an accent not unlike Hiskut, and wondered if they were from a similar region.

"Come, Baan," Hiskut wheedled. "Play a game. You are good at dice."

"Better'n you are at cards," Ishî agreed.

Baan spared Cadoc an icy look before turning his attention back towards Hiskut. "I will observe," he said again.

* * *

_It was over a week before he left the blasted, fiery doom of Gorgoroth behind him, trekking finally into the lush green pasture of northern Nûrn. The black sky seemed to melt immediately to pale blue, and for a moment, Baan could have forgotten the blood soaked ground before the Black Gate, where his comrades now lay rotting._

_Fortune smiled on him, for not long after his boots trampled grass instead of ash, he found a stray horse bred by his countrymen, still dressed for war, wandering aimlessly on the plains. It must have been parted from a gentle master, because he was able to approach it easily. Baan was relieved to find a water skin among the saddlebags. He took a long, thirsty drink and praised the Unnamed Deity for his good luck._

_The holdings overseen by his family were not far from the plateau. It would only be another half day's ride before he reached home. After that, Baan was not sure what they would do. The Eye had fallen, and with it, his father's carefully cultivated position. Though slaves themselves, Baan's family had worked to situate themselves very high in the chain of command._

_His father oversaw an entire farmstead, and with that title came the benefits for his family and more privileges than those beneath them. It was what allowed his sister Esha to choose a husband in her own time, instead of being pushed into breeding at a young age; and what protected the women in his clan from unwanted advances by their masters. It was why Baan could join with the Sajan army. Sajan nationals oversaw the farmlands of Nûrn; old generals and their weak armed sons. They were always looking for young men to serve the knights of their kingdom._

_When he was old enough, Baan apprenticed himself to the first knight that would have him. That knight turned out to be uncommonly generous, offering Baan his freedom after a scant five years of service. Now a soldier himself, he had hoped to eventually buy the freedom of his family; one member at a time, if need be. They may have been slaves in a good position, but they were slaves still, unable to call their own fortune._

_Though one of their own standing would have been hard pressed to name them thus. In the eyes of their fellow laborers, they were just as despised as their Masters. Some might even call them worse. All Baan knew was that his father's wisdom and leadership had led to the wellbeing of his entire family, and his own fortuitous position. Anyone that would speak ill of that was not worthy of consideration in his eyes._

_Baan knew something was wrong the moment he saw smoke. His heart raced with thoughts of his kin and their possible fate. As he rode up on the main house, where his family shared a large room in the rear, he was troubled to find that half of the building was charred and smouldering. Still, he held out hope that his father had evacuated his sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles before the revolt._

_As he passed the remains of the once splendid main house, the sound of distant shouting and jeering hurried his pace. Baan spurred his horse on, feeling a sense of profound dread. Battalions no longer patrolled this part of Mordor against uprisings or revolts, and the Enemy's troops had already ridden into northern Nûrn. There was no telling what terror they had caused here._

_What he found over the ridge beyond the main house was a horror he did not expect, but should have anticipated. His former masters were already dead – all Sajan lordlings dressed in fine, decorative clothing, soft with an easy life. They lay in the green grass along with their wives and weak willed sons. Their glassy eyes stared at the cloudless afternoon sky. Further afield, his father hung from a noose, dangling lifelessly from a tall tree that marked the outer pastures. There were several Gondorian soldiers leading the farmstead's enslaved laborers, and they had hedged in the rest of his family. His Uncle Kavi struggled with two large, young slaves as they dragged him forward. There was a rope around his neck already._

_With an agonized shout, Baan drew his sickle sword and rode at full gallop towards the unruly mob. The holdings here boasted only three dozen slaves apart from his large family, but Baan knew they would be easily scattered once those Gondorian soldiers were routed._

_He felt like a man possessed. Fire burned in his veins, smoke was his breath, vengeance his shield, his sword was a silver moon. With several, well-placed strokes, it was a hunter's moon, and the two Enemy soldiers that rode to meet him were dead. He drove his horse directly into the assembled crowd, trampling several slaves even as the others scattered. He felt uncharacteristic satisfaction at the crunch of bones beneath his mount's hooves and the agonized screams of the men that had helped to slay his father._

_He dismounted, and the few remaining soldiers on foot – obviously younger men with little experience – dared to attack him. Baan felled them with little effort, aided by his uncles who, though unarmed, harassed them enough to distract them. His sisters and aunties and cousins were already driving off the other slaves with rocks, their eyes burning fierce with vengeance._

_Esha wailed as their father was lowered from the tree, and Baan thought he could hear her heart breaking. For his own part, Baan stood stoically as his sire was laid on the cool grass. He had not seen his father in more than five years. His last memory of him was their embrace before Baan left with the knight that would eventually free him._

" _Go with your father's pride and prayers, my son," his father had said, all those years ago, as they parted ways. Baan could remember the love written on his careworn face in that moment. He had been joyed and relieved that his son would escape the life that bound his bloodline for so many generations._

_Baan stood stoically, but inside he raged. He glared at the bloodied, pale faces of the Gondor soldiers as they baked in the sun. Their deaths had been too quick, in Baan's opinion._

" _We should kill all of them!" Esha snarled, picking up another stone and making for the direction in which many of the slaves had fled._

_Though weighted with sorrow and anger, Baan knew they did not have that kind of time. "There are Enemy soldiers all around us," he argued. "More will come to replace those six."_

" _We must gather what livestock and grain we can, and leave at once," his Uncle Kavi announced, his voice eerily calm as he removed the rope dangling from his neck. He turned his attention towards Baan, his eyes soft. "It is good to have you returned to us, nephew."_

_Esha clutched Baan's leather armor. "We must bury father," she insisted, sounding frantic._

_He took her by the arm. She was nearly fourteen now, just on the cusp of womanhood, and Baan was startled by her resemblance to their late mother. "He would rather see us alive then buried alongside him," Baan reasoned. His spirit sank as he led his mourning sister away from their father. This was not the return he had envisioned._

_His Uncle Kavi was a savior in that moment, pushing aside an insurmountable grief – his father and uncle had always been close– to see that the family survived. They gathered what they could from the ruined farmstead and fled that night into the south, before more soldiers accosted them, or their fellow slaves rallied to muster another attack._

_It was later that they would mourn. They did so as a family, huddled together under a pale moon; the cool, desolate plains of Nûrn stretching on forever. It was a bitter reunion._

* * *

Baan hated dice. He was good at it only because he had developed a reliable technique for throwing, and had some measure of control on the outcome of the roll. He liked to think some of his skill had to do with all the stones he skipped as a boy, idly daydreaming his way to a beating for neglecting his work. Or maybe it had to do with all the games he played in the soldiers' tents while they camped outside of Barad'dûr, the endless night stretching on while they waited for marching orders. There was no alternative to improving. If he'd continued to lose as he had in the beginning of his soldiering career, he would have been fighting the _tarks_ with fistfuls of mud at the Black Gates when the Eye fell. But Baan hated Orc dice, because the game was mostly cheating.

Ishî was excellent at it. Most Black Uruks could rob you blind in a game of dice if given a chance, and he had passed those dubious skills on to his foster daughter. Baan once thought it went against Hiskut's nature to cheat, but Orcish concepts of honor did not extend to gambling. They were more loose guidelines than a code to live by. He had long ago accepted this malleability in his wife. She was steadfast in other ways that mattered to him more.

Still, Baan would not lower himself to sneak spare die into his belt, or hide them under his shirt. It was harmless enough for Orcs, considering what Orcs were capable of– in many things, Baan held them to different standards– but it was somewhat telling that the _tark_ was so accomplished a swindler. He had caught the man's subtle movements only once. Even then, he wasn't quite sure where the switch had occurred. The _tark_ was cheating, though, and that irritated Baan in an indescribable way.

And it was _because_ he was a _tark_ that Baan was irritated. He knew his own mind well enough to realize his prejudice, but he held to it anyway. Western Men were so quick to speak of their honor and fortitude, and here, one was cheating as easily as an Orc. Baan wasn't sure if he should be angry with Bogdish for comparing the two of them.

"Rukhash found herself a nice lad. Mannish folk," he'd told Esha after he returned from his trip south. "Sorta quiet, though. Reminds me of yer brother."

To bear reminiscence to a _tark_ was somewhat infuriating, but Baan couldn't be too upset with Esha's husband for not noticing the differences. Most of what passed through Bogdish's teeth was meant innocently enough. He was denser than most. Thinking of Bogdish reminded Baan that, by the practices of his people, this _tark_ was family now. It was Hiskut who noted this fact as they traveled here.

Strange to be reminded of family ties by an Orc, even if he did love her. His wife had paid closer attention than he'd thought when Baan described his people's marriage customs. Orcs did not count family unless they liked them on a personal level, and many fell under the umbrella of kinship by the virtue of being close friends. Bloodlines and lineage meant very little to an Orc unless they could claim a famous ancestor. Even then, their mating practices made it impossible to prove such a claim. Well known Orcs like Azog, or Zgnrathrath the Tooth Taker had many supposed descendants running around, though Baan doubted most of them were actually related to those famous Orcs of legend. He also doubted many of those Orcs of legend existed, but it was better not to argue with Ishî when he started in on a story.

Since it was the Orcish side on which they were related, Baan had decided to take an Orcish attitude towards the _tark._ There was nothing Baan loathed more than Men from the West. It wasn't just the War or the fact that they were once enemies, though that was a factor. And it wasn't his father's murder alone that drove that hate, though that, too, was reason for his loathing. It was how they conducted themselves, how they deigned to speak to other peoples they considered lesser. Baan despised their self righteousness. He thought the lot of them were hypocrites, especially considering the shameful way they had routed out Hiskut's people. Though he had possessed his own biases before living among Orcs, that bias never instilled in him the desire to eradicate them entirely. Now that he was married to an Orc, he judged the actions of Gondor even more harshly.

Though, Hiskut herself seemed generally nonplussed by the hunting of her race, so long as the _tarks_ stayed on their side of the river. She was not the most empathetic of people.

The fact that this _tark_ had removed himself from his own countrymen to take an Orc wife held little sway with Baan. He saw conceit in every move the man made. Even now, the _tark_ situated himself among the Orcs with haughty confidence. He watched keenly as Hiskut made her throws.

"Hands," the _tark_ said.

Her dark skin went two shades darker. Had she ever been called in a game before? Baan could not remember an instance. He was very sure he had never seen his wife more embarrassed. "I've made no hands," she insisted, opening her palms.

"It is in your breast pocket."

The old goblin sitting at the head of the board grinned at her, delighted. "Let's see it."

Baan felt himself bristle. He was surprised Ishî would allow her to be singled out thus. With her jaw clenched, Hiskut opened her leather vest and a heavy die fell out and onto the stone floor. She passed it on to the _tark_.

"Fair an' square," Ishî muttered and pretended to look over the scores the goblin smith was keeping.

According to Orcish rules, the _tark_ should have tossed the die out. Instead, he handed it back to her. "It's a fine piece," he said. "It would be a shame to scratch it." He glared subtly at the old goblin next to him. Baan wondered what that was about.

Ashplak shrugged, nonplussed. "Them's the rules." He turned to Hiskut. "An' you know how the rest goes."

"My stakes are forfeit," she grumbled, standing.

"You can join the next round," Ishî said with a too-easy smile as his daughter retreated. She took a seat next to Baan. He dared not even touch her in reassurance. Hiskut hated losing more than he did. When she stewed, it was better to leave her be.

The game played itself out, and Baan was pleased that Ishî won, even if the _tark_ was entitled to Hiskut's holdings. With luck, Hiskut's father would earn her measure back by the end of the night.

"You do not wish to play this round?" Baan asked her warily.

She leaned against him, and much of the tension in her bearing melted away. "I am fine here," she said, and Baan cheered a little.

As the players settled in for their fifth round, the _tark_ stood and stretched. "Will you miss me if I'm off?" he asked Ashplak.

Much to Baan's discomfort, the old goblin glanced subtly in his direction, thinking. " _Nar_ , lad," he said.

The _tark_ gathered his winnings along with Hiskut's stakes: a throwing knife and four silvers. Instead of marching out of the gully towards the main den, he approached Hiskut. He offered her back her purse and said, "I've enough throwing knives from beating Takhbork–"

"Oi!" the smith barked.

Chuckling, he added, "and money is no use to me here. Please, take your winnings back."

Baan wanted to toss that false show of generosity back in the man's face, but he had learned not to speak for his wife. That had been a fierce argument between them in the past.

Hiskut glanced from her posessions to her father, who was watching the proceedings with interest. "You won them fairly," she said.

The _tark_ laughed. "There is nothing fair about this game. Please, take them back. I did not mean to upset you when I called you out."

To Baan's surprise, she took her knife and silvers from the _tark_ 's outstretched hand. "I was not upset," she lied breezily, "just surprised you caught me."

"I almost didn't see it," the _tark_ admitted. "You are a very good player."

Much to Baan's relief, the man then turned and left, waving to his tribesmen as he climbed out of the pit on long legs. Baan wasn't sure how much longer he would have allowed the _tark_ to speak so smugly to his wife.

"That was unexpect–" Hiskut's smile faltered when she noticed his expression. Baan tried to temper his scowl. She lowered her voice to a delicate whisper. "Did I upset you by taking him up on his offer?"

Above them, someone had started in on a drum. Baan felt the staccato rhythm vibrate through his ribcage. "They are your belongings to do with as you wish," he said tightly.

" _Shara_ ," Ashplak called, motioning towards the board. "Come play."

"I am fine where I am," Baan insisted.

Ishî turned towards him, glowering, his face uncharacteristically serious. "Come'n play, Baan."

A twinge of unease struck him. There was only one reason Ishî would insist that he join them. Baan hated Orc politics. They were far more subtle than they should be for a race that prided themselves on bluntness and spent a better part of their time trading insults like it was breathing. He barely grasped their intricacies in the tribe he belonged to, and wasn't sure how to interpret them here. Still, it was never wise to vex a Black Uruk.

Ashplak patted the ground next to himself, where the _tark_ formerly sat, and Baan took a seat begrudgingly, feeling like a petulant child. Ishî, at least, seemed pleased.

"Don't worry!" a broad, dark goblin said, slapping him hard on the back. "We ain't even gonna give you the _shara_ handicap!"

Sighing, Baan took up the dice.

* * *

Hegdash thought her footsteps sounded unnaturally loud as she descended into the Gundbarashal lock hole. She kept checking behind her to make sure that no one followed, hoping to avoid nosey interlopers. The talk she wanted to have with the ancient Orc in this cellar should be private. Faintly, the sound of drumming reached her ears, and a part of her relaxed. Vigilance was an old habit for Hegdash, but drums either meant war or a festive mood, and the beat being played was too cheerful to slap a shield to.

It was pitch black in the lock hole. Hegdash fumbled for several, frustrating seconds, searching for the lantern she saw hanging on the wall earlier. Though relieved to find it, more long seconds passed as she struck the metal stick attached to the lantern against the textured surface near the oil reservoir. First a spark, then a flame burst forth, and finally Hegdash could see properly.

The ancient Orc was crouched near the front of her cell, glaring with lucid, pale eyes. It took a lot to unnerve Hegdash, but something in the knowing look on Old Granny's face set her hair on end.

"We meet again, eh old girl?"

Old Granny grinned slowly – revealing her few, broken teeth– and said nothing.

Determined to show this strange, old Orc that she didn't fear her, Hegdash took a seat directly in front of the cell, not bothering to stay out of reach. She comforted herself with the knowledge that she was spades larger than Old Granny. She could pound that bony goblin into the next age with little effort, and Old Granny knew it. The imprisoned Orc did not make to lash out at her.

Still, Old Granny kept grinning that eerie grin.

"What's got you so chipper?" Hegdash growled. Here, for once, she did not need to put on airs. Best to get to the quick of it. "I'm here 'cause I want a word with you–"

" _Woman can see the sparks_ ," Old Granny hissed.

"'At's right," Hegdash confirmed.

" _It is an age and an age since Old Granny meets someone who can see the sparks."_ She shook her large head, as though she were bereft. " _All gone, all gone_."

"What's all gone?"

" _Others._ "

Hegdash sighed, exasperated. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to come down here directly after speaking with Ranmor. Her temper was already thin. This was going to be like pulling teeth, she could feel it. "The other _what_?"

" _The Orcs_."

" _I'm_ an _Orc_ , you old fool," Hegdash hissed, her fist clenched.

The ancient beast shook her head. " _Can't be an Orc if you've got a spark_."

Hegdash touched her left breast lightly, where a tiny, white light had sprung to life a decade prior. It happened, practically overnight, to her entire clan, her entire _tribe_ , and Hegdash didn't know what it meant. Men had it. She had seen that same light burn in her father's chest, but never her mother's. It burned until he died, and then it faded and vanished.

"Well if I ain't an Orc, 'en you ain't one neither," Hegdash said. "You've got a little light of yer own, even if it's barely there."

Old Granny bared her teeth and scratched at her chest, but her dulled nails could do no damage. " _Cruel jailers_ ," she sighed mournfully. " _Old Granny can't dig it out anymore. Can't remember the songs to sing it away._ "

Hegdash would rather bludgeon herself with all these rhymes and riddles than listen to them. "What are they?" she asked, and hoped Old Granny would give a straight answer. "What are these sparks." She didn't _think_ they were dangerous, but she honestly did not know.

" _The Enemy_ ," Old Granny said. " _The Enemy puts them there. Insidious, cloying little sparks! We are called to join, made to join the world, and we forget what we were meant to be."_

Confused and somewhat troubled, Hegdash asked, "How do them _tarks_ get 'em in there? Some kinda magic?"

" _Sha! Fool! Not tarks!_ " The old orcess' eyes were round with fear. " _The First Enemy, the real Enemy, He that is Alone!_ "

Well, that sounded like proper batshit crazy to Hegdash. Maybe this was a waste of time. "Hn," she grunted. "Don't have a name then, this _Enemy_?"

Old Granny licked her lips nervously and shook her head. " _Cannot say, cannot say. Two are gathered. He will hear. The sparks will grow._ "

"Right…" Hegdash's frown deepened. "But what _are_ they?"

Old Granny reached out with a bony finger and touched the space just above Hegdash's heart. " _It's the mark,_ " she breathed, horrified. " _His fingerprint on creation_."

* * *

Dera was making trilling noises as she batted at the beads and bones and feathers Cadoc had strung for her. He jangled them just out of reach for a moment longer before lowering them so she could catch them. Dera crowed with delight.

"She loves that stupid thing," Rukhash laughed as she stirred their supper.

"Well, she loved that little fox you sewed her so much, she tore it to pieces," he replied before gently jerking the beads away and dangling them over Dera's head again. Their daughter squealed and batted. "We shall see how long this toy lasts her."

Rukhash smiled and went back to stirring, debating if supper could use more sage. She was trying her hand at cooking some proper Mannish cuisine tonight. Cadoc was casually supervising, offering his input only if she asked. She really _did_ want to try to make him a stew on her own. Aside from the fact that _he_ would like it, she had developed a taste for it herself.

It was turning out to be a pleasant evening. The sound of a festive drum drifted in from the guest cave and several members of her own tribe were starting in on some drinking and dancing. Rukhash wondered if she and Cadoc might pass Dera off to Grazad for a few hours after dinner and join in the fun themselves.

Her mother took that moment to walk by, her direction aimless. Rukhash blinked at her unguarded expression. She looked a little dazed.

"Oi, mum," Rukhash called. Hegdash blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream, and turned towards her daughter.

"You arright?" Rukhash asked, concerned.

"Fine," Hegdash said, approaching, "I'm fine, heart."

She didn't _sound_ fine. "You sure? Everything go arright with Ranmor?"

"Yea, yea, my girl," Hegdash confirmed, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "That went as well as it could've. Yer dad'll be proud'a me fer not tearin' her arms off."

Rukhash laughed. _That_ sounded like her mum. She wondered what had her so preoccupied, but decided not to press it. "You want some supper?"

"Supper'd be nice," her mother sighed, and glanced at Dera as she played on Cadoc's lap. "You mind if I hold my grandbaby?"

"Not at all," Cadoc said, and passed a wriggling Dera off to her grandmother.

Gathering the baby to her chest, Hegdash pressed her fingertips gently against Dera's breastbone, her gaze suddenly far away. Rukhash wondered what her mother found so interesting. Maybe Dera had a dirty spot. "Mum?"

"It's nothing, my girl," Hegdash whispered, half to herself. "Just somethin' I've been seein' more of lately."

Deciding her mother was probably tired from a long evening, Rukhash shrugged and went back to stirring.

* * *

**Translations**

_Turuk Nur_ (shadowlandian) lit. "sister tribe"; two Orc tribes that join together to share resources and warriors. Part of their joining entails the exchange of bloodlines through pairing unattached individuals to produce token offspring. Due to the naturally wary nature of Orcs, this is a rare relationship between tribes.

_Sajan_ A Rhûn nation whose borders lie close to Mordor. Because the word Rhûn (and Harad) itself is Sindarin, I have done some subcreation for the people of those regions. I doubted, since they are mentioned as having their own languages and customs, they would use an elf-tongue to name their people. I've always assumed those were Gondor maps we we're looking at.

* * *

Beta: horseyyay AKA Morgoth  
(last edit March 2016)


	66. Dropping In

**Splint  
Chapter 66: Dropping In**

* * *

This was not a good position for him to be in.

Hedon checked the deep puncture wound in his right thigh and swore. He had already bled through two bandages, and hardly three hours could have passed. His quarry was no doubt lost already. Four days gone, he had tracked a convicted murderer to the Narrow Path leading through Ephel Duath. It went against any good sense to continue on alone, but the man's tracks told him that he was barely half a day behind.

The mountain proved as dangerous an opponent as his mark, and Hedon struggled for days to close the gap between them. He marched through deep ravines between mountains and through a grove of strange rock formations that seemed ready to topple at any moment. Earlier that evening, he had found the man. Or rather, the man found him. Hedon had been ambushed at a tight point in the passage. The arrow in his shoulder was mostly a non issue. It had struck bone. While painful, it was easily removed. The arrow in his thigh had been another matter. Hedon feared it had grazed an important vein.

It was snowing in earnest now. It had begun as a light peppering earlier, but it seemed as though the weather decided to turn with his luck. Looking behind, Hedon realized he was leaving a trail of red in his wake. ' _At least I will be able to find my way back,'_ he thought dizzily.

He should have never left his horse at the clearing two days back. The mountain paths seemed impassable for his favored mount, but the beast would be a boon now that his situation had become so desperate. He needed to stop putting weight on his leg, but resting in the snow would kill him as surely as bleeding out. He spotted a cave up ahead, and nearly sighed aloud with relief. It seemed as though his luck was looking up.

Once inside, he removed his soiled bandage and tore a fresh strip from his cloak to bind his wound. At this rate, he wouldn't have a cloak at all by the end of the night. Hedon rested his head against the cool, granite wall and watched the snow swirl outside the cave. He felt as though his whole body was made of lead. He should start a fire. He could burn his old bandages as tinder for the small log of wood he'd brought with him. He needed to stay awake.

His eyes were so heavy. ' _I'll just rest a moment,_ ' he thought.

He began to drift, feeling oddly warm and comfortable. It seemed as if he shut his eyes for mere seconds before someone, some _thing,_ grabbed him and ground his face into the cold stone floor and the pain in his leg and arm came roaring back. The something spoke to a fellow in a harsh tongue he could not discern, and Hedon knew immediately what had him.

' _Orcs!'_

Struggling was almost a moot point. He was desperately weak from blood loss and could barely muster a fight. The Orcs laughed as they bound his wrists, cackling maniacally amongst themselves. Then, he was being dragged into the darkness. The Orcs kept speaking in their horrible tongue, but he caught some common mixed in. Hedon could barely stay awake, never mind trying to divine what they were saying. With any luck, he would be unconscious by the time they started in on him. He thought sadly of his family. He hoped Nándra would not be too upset with him for being so foolhardy; that Lannion might forgive him for leaving at such a tender age; that Cadry might remember him in some way when she was older…

The tunnel lightened and opened into a large space. A disconcerting number of dark, sinister faces crowded around him. Hedon blinked slowly. There was nothing but teeth and multicolored colored eyes as far as he could see. Some of the Orcs were speaking in the common tongue, but everything around him had become dull and muddy. Someone was yelling his name. Hedon frowned to himself. Was that…

He was rolled onto his back, and Rukhash appeared above him, her features twisted with anxiety. "Hedon!" she called, patting his cheek. Distantly, Hedon wondered why she sounded so worried. The heel of her other hand was pressing into his wounded thigh. Orcs were peeking around her, their vicious faces looking oddly curious.

Hedon felt his mouth move as though he were working it from another body. "Orc? Where's...Cadoc?"

"Crazy bastard," she breathed. "Don't you worry about Cadoc. He's better off'n you are right now."

Hedon's eyes fluttered shut, though his mouth was still moving wordlessly. Rukhash doubted anything he had to say would make much sense anyway. She turned to Zurnra and Surnra at her side. "Help me move 'im."

" _Skai_ ," Surnra groused. "Move 'im yerself. I already helped drag this heavy bastard all the way inside!"

"Hold it, hold it!" Dufkarn shouted, swinging down from his den. Turgrat was right behind him, looking grimmer than usual. The crowd parted for them as the chief approached, glaring at Hedon. "The fuck is goin' on here? Who's that you got, bleedin' all over our den?"

"Chief, _please_ ," Rukhash said, nearly frantic. Hedon was losing blood fast. She needed to seal his wound. "I'll speak for 'im a hundred times over, I will! This is Cadoc's _brother._ If he weren't out scoutin', he'd speak for 'im too!"

Dufkarn glanced from the giant of a Man making a growing, red puddle in the middle of the main den to Rukhash's pleading. Pointing to Zurnra and Surnra, he said, "Do as she tells you. We'll sort this later."

Most of the crowd dispersed, rumbling amongst themselves. Grumbling as they unbound his wrists, the twins each took an arm and started to drag. Rukhash grabbed Hedon's knees, lifting as carefully as she could. He was so damn _big_. The twins lurched forward, jostling him, and she hissed at them. "Be careful!"

Surnra glared. "You want him moved or not?"

Ishî took that moment to appear from nowhere. He blocked their path. The Black Uruk was staring at Hedon's slack features with an indiscernible expression. Rukhash made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, wondering what he wanted. She really didn't have time for uruk posturing or prejudice right now.

"You wanna hand?" he asked.

Rukhash immediately decided she liked Ishî, even if Cadoc was still unsure of him. "Fuck yea, we do."

* * *

A dull throb resonated throughout his leg. That was the first thing that he was aware of as he woke, and Hedon felt an odd sense of relief. If he could feel pain, then it was likely that he wasn't dead. He lay for a moment longer with his eyes closed. A fire was nearby, crackling merrily. It smelled odd here. The air had a dense, smoky flavor to it mixed with an animal scent, like wet dog. Someone was at his right, splishing in a pail of water. Beneath him, soft fur and grass provided a cushion against the hard, stone floor.

Deciding to risk seeing where he actually was – he vaguely recalled Rukhash's face, and the Orcs that dragged him, bound, into their den – Hedon opened his eyes. He immediately regretted this decision. To his right, just past the low fire, was the oldest, wrinkliest Orc Hedon had ever seen. It's craggy face seemed fixed in a permanent scowl. Hedon had a too clear view as it scrubbed its bared, saggy arms with a dingy rag. He nearly gagged.

He must have made some sound, because the Orc immediately turned towards him, dropping the washcloth in the pail with a tin _plunk_. "Not dead yet?" she bared two rows of yellowed, crooked fangs in a toothy grin before pulling a tunic over her head, but Hedon could not unsee her pendulous, naked breasts. Cupping her hand against her mouth, the Orc shouted outside the cave, "Oi, Rukhash! He's awake!"

Within seconds, Rukhash was at his side, looking immensely relieved. Hedon had never been so happy to see anyone in all his life.

"Orc…" he croaked, his mouth dry.

"Cadoc's _fine_ afore you ask," she said, bringing a bowl of water to his lips as if reading his mind. Hedon drank greedily. "An' _yer_ lucky ta be fine, you stupid ox. I though you was a goner there. Been out fer the past two days."

Two days? Hedon didn't know he had lost so much time. A directionless panic passed over him, and he struggled to rise, but Rukhash pushed him onto his back with little effort. "Don't you _dare_!" she hissed. "Yer lucky you didn't bleed out, you great arse! You'll be restin' here a few days more."

Hedon glanced uneasily at the old Orc sitting silently just past Rukhash. Her expression was unreadable, but then, Hedon had never excelled at reading Orc expressions. "Where am I?"

"You are in the Gundbarashal den," a familiar voice responded.

Cadoc appeared at the mouth of the cave, though Hedon barely recognized him. He was, perhaps, a touch greyer, but that was not what made him look so different. He looked as though he had been living rough. He was thinner; not starving, but not overly fed either. A little leather patch covered his eye– Rukhash's handiwork, Hedon imagined– and he was dressed in a layering of his old cotton undershirts and wool pants and a long leather tunic. He was carrying a little brown imp in his arms.

"And you are lucky Rukhash was around to vouch for you when they dragged you in here," Cadoc continued, a stern line on his brow. "What were you _thinking_ traveling so far into the Ephel Duath range? The Narrow Path comes dangerously close to a neighboring clan's territory. You are fortunate _they_ did not find you."

Hedon never knew what to say to Cadoc when he had that disappointed look on his face. "I was after an outlaw," he said. "Though I imagine he is long gone by now."

Cadoc kneeled by his side as Rukhash examined the wound on his leg, though Hedon could tell she was quietly listening more than working. "He is," Cadoc said, "but he did not escape to freedom, if he is the man they found last night. The warriors here came across him in the forest and saw to his end. I was not there, but I think Turgrat was annoyed he had no information on our troublesome neighbors to the east. They believed he was a spy for them. What was he really?"

"A murderer," Hedon replied, feeling at once oddly relieved his quarry did not escape and sympathetic to a man that met his end at the hands of Orcs.

Cadoc nodded quietly and turned to the wrinkly Orc. "Will you take Dera a moment, Grazad?" he asked.

The old Orc took the imp from his arms. "I'll bring 'er to Bregut while you three have yer chat," she said, and waddled out of the small cave, cooing at the child. The imp squealed with delight.

Cadoc watched them leave silently before turning to Hedon. "You should thank Grazad when she returns," he said as he sat, cross legged, at Hedon's side. "She offered her cave to you, since ours is too small for a patient to rest comfortably in."

"I will… try to remember to do that," Hedon replied weakly.

Cadoc exchanged an uneasy look with Rukhash. "The chief wants to speak with you," Cadoc told him. "I suggest you answer whatever questions he asks you honestly. Dufkarn is very good at sniffing out a lie; Ashplak more so."

"I wouldn't lie–"

"And I strongly urge that you be polite," Cadoc continued. "Rukhash has vouched for you, and I have added my word to hers. If the chief believes that you are untrustworthy or disrespectful, then we will be the ones to hear about it. That's how things work here."

Unsure of what to say to that, Hedon's gaze darted about the cave he was harbored in. There were various little pots stacked against the far wall, and a bed of piled high furs was located in the far corner, a comfortable little spot for an Orc, he imagined. Outside, the cave opened up to a wide space, and Hedon caught glimpses of other Orcs milling about the caverns. He searched the recess of his memory, trying to think of what group dynamic might be at work here. His old friend spoke of a chief. Had he seen an Orc chief before? From what he recalled, his father had done business with small groups, mobile and loosely organized. This set up did not resemble those marauding bands. The Orcs here seemed too settled. "Cadoc," Hedon said uneasily, "what _is_ this place?"

"I've told you already," Cadoc sighed. "This is the Gundbarashal den. We've joined the tribe here." Hedon blinked owlishly at that. "You've shown up at a very inopportune time," Cadoc continued. "Please, when Dufkarn comes to speak with you, be polite, and answer him honestly. Do this as a favor for me, and for _yourself_. You must convince him you will bring no malice upon the people here."

The earnest look Cadoc was giving him begged his cooperation. Hedon nodded in response, but that concerned look did not leave his friend's face. He wondered what the Orc chief would do if he did not come across as honest or polite, and decided not to think on that too hard. Rukhash's expression was just as dire as Cadoc's. She stared dully at his injury, obviously not seeing it.

"How is my leg?" Hedon asked her.

"You'll be walkin' around in a few days," she said, shaking her dour expression into something brighter and reassuring. Hedon was relieved to hear it. His leg felt at once pained and numb, and he wasn't sure what that meant. But he trusted Rukhash's judgement when it came to injuries.

She seemed different to him as well. Her hair was pulled back and her necklace of teeth was out of her short tunic. It jangled around her neck. She wore no boots; her clawed toes tapped idly on the stone floor. She looked very much at home here, and more like an Orc than she ever had before, even when he first met her. Perhaps it was the setting. And yet, he found that her Orcishness didn't concern him as much as it did in the past, though much of that might be due to her coming to his rescue.

Hedon turned to his friend and mentor as a sudden realization dawned on him. "That was your child that the old Orc took out with her," he said, annoyed with himself for not realizing it sooner.

"My daughter," Cadoc confirmed.

"Your daughter…" Hedon echoed, a little stunned. "Her name is Dera?"

"It is."

"You named her for your grandmother."

Cadoc smiled wanly. "I was pleased Rukhash was open to the suggestion."

Rukhash shrugged. "It's a better name'n Dolpan," she conceded.

"Will you let me meet her?"

A gentle expression overtook his friend. "Of course," Cadoc said, clasping his shoulder. He became suddenly pensive as his eye darted quickly outside the cave. "But you must speak with Dufkarn first."

"Now?"

" _Now_ ," a voice growled from just outside. A large, broad shouldered goblin entered the cave. He sported a troubling sash of broken skulls and bone. His green eyes focused singularly on Hedon, before flicking to Cadoc and Rukhash. "Out," he ordered.

Hedon was shocked when neither Cadoc or Rukhash argued. They simply stood and _left_. He glared at their retreating backs as the Orc chief took their place. Another, white haired Orc entered just behind him, and Hedon's eyes watered at this Orc's unwashed stink. How could his long time friend just _leave him_ here at the mercy of these... _Orcs_. Had Cadoc lost his mind? Had he forgotten his friendships?

"He's right outside," the white haired Orc said, glancing subtly to his left. "No need ta rile yerself up."

Hedon hadn't even realized he sat up. A wave of dizziness assailed him, and he leant back onto the pallet, marginally relieved that Cadoc was close.

Dufkarn breathed a little sigh to himself as the Man lay back down. He didn't think _tarks_ came in extra fucking huge, and though Dufkarn was sure he was too weak to put up a proper fight, the chief didn't want to test that notion. It was a smart little lie, on Ashplak's part. Cadoc had remained in sight of Grazad's cave, but he had retreated to his own den, and wasn't close enough to hear anything they would say. Which was the respectful thing to do for your chief, even if he _was_ interrogating your comrade.

Speaking of that… Dufkarn eyed the man up and down. He was paler than what the Gundbarashal chief considered usual for _tarks_ , but then, this lad wasn't a proper _tark_ anyhow. "So," Dufkarn said, "yer Cadoc's brother…"

The Man frowned slightly, but nodded. "Of a sort," he said.

"What's that mean? Yer brothers or you ain't."

"We are not blood kin," he clarified, and Dufkarn nearly laughed aloud. He didn't need a keen sense of smell to tell him _that_.

"Didn't ask if you was _blood_ ," Dufkarn scoffed. "I asked if you was _brothers_."

The Man looked thoughtful. "We are."

"And how's that you two know each other?" The chief queried.

"Is that important?"

" _Yes._ "

An uncomfortable look passed over the Man's face before he found his voice. "I was taken in as a ward of the rangers when I was a lad," he said. "Cadoc mentored me. He treated me as family when others looked on me as a burden. His family took me in as one of their own with no condition. I spent many winters with them. His kin are very gracious, just ask Rukhash."

Dufkarn didn't need to ask Rukhash anything. The story of her wintering with Cadoc's clan had made the usual rounds. He was not interested in their generosity. "Where's _your_ blood, 'en?" Dufkarn asked.

"I have no family," the man answered quickly.

" _None_?"

"Just Cadoc and his family."

Ashplak suddenly interjected, "So you never heard of Crazy Eye Eaton, 'en?"

All the color seemed to drain from the Man's already pale face. He said nothing. Dufkarn thought the old goblin was getting to the quick of it a little on the swift side, but better not to hedge around what they knew.

"Well?" Ashplak pressed.

"He is dead," the Man whispered, avoiding their gaze.

"And how'd he come ta that?"

"A hangman's noose."

With a dark laugh, Ashplak said, "'At's a bleedin' shame. Nice bloke, yer dad."

The Man looked surprised and uneasy all at once. "How did you...You _knew_ him?"

Dufkarn had known Crazy Eye only in passing. He had done some shady dealings with their Uruk captain back in the day, when shady dealings on the Mordor border were commonplace. He'd bring a few whores; weapons and armor of dubious origin; shiny shit that wasn't worth more than a dice throw in Lugbúrz, but uruk higher-ups seemed keen on anyhow. He was well known in Orcish circles, especially among civilian blokes who took to waylaying travelers and merchants. Ashplak had known him better.

"I did," the old goblin said, grinning. "I were ordered out one summer– a good, several years afore the War– ta scout further into Enemy territory. Crazy Eye gave me safe harbor at his den in the White Mountains when I had a pack of _tarks_ on my tail. Real hospitable fella. Shame ta hear he went out like that."

A stern look crossed the Man's face. "He had it coming."

Ashlak's smile widened. "I bet 'e did." The old goblin chuckled, elbowing Dufkarn in the side. "Imagine that! Ol' Crazy Eye's lad, a _ranger_. He must be spinnin' in 'is grave."

"How did you know that I was his son?" the Man asked. Dufkarn imagined he heard shame in the lad's voice.

Ashplak tapped his nose. "You smell like 'im, but more'n that, you bloody look just like 'im. Less crazy in the eye, maybe, but yer 'is seed if ever I seen it."

"You didn't get on with him?" Dufkarn asked, curious.

"No," the Man said quietly. "We were once quite close, but he died when I was still young. Too young to realize what kind of man he was. My father was a villain. I prefer not to be associated with him."

Ashplak shrugged and looked to Dufkarn. The Gundbarashal chief wasn't sure what to think of all that. Crazy Eye had done _his_ father a service, it would only be fair to do the same for that man's son. Still, _this_ Man was a ranger, and obviously cared very little for _his_ father. Cadoc had proved trustworthy enough to invite in as tribe. This ranger wasn't looking for that distinction, but Dufkarn wanted to be sure he could trust him enough to set him free after he was patched up. Rukhash and Cadoc's word had saved him from some roughing up, but Dufkarn needed to be sure he would not bring trouble on them.

"So, what's yer name, 'en," Dufkarn asked, taking a seat. Rukhash had told him the Man's name already, but it was a point, among Orcs, to give your name in proper greeting.

"Hedon," he said.

"Well, _Hedon_ ," he raised his chin a little, "I'm Dufkarn, Chief of the Gundbarashal Tribe, and yer gonna tell me why you were out and about, stumblin' around an' bleedin' all over our mountain."

"I have told Cadoc already–"

"Tell _me_."

Hedon was silent, grim faced, and Dufkarn wondered if he would need to be more forceful. He preferred not to be. This Man had been spoken for by members of his tribe, and that would afford him _some_ leniency, but Dufkarn's rope was only so long. The Gundbarashal chief cleared his throat loudly, and, to his credit, the Man seemed to snap to attention.

With a deep breath, Hedon told Dufkarn of his hunt for the outlaw who had murdered two men in a robbery, leaving a woman widowed and sonless. Dufkarn wasn't sure why he felt it necessary to lay out a dead man's crimes, but remained silent. Hedon continued, describing his route through the mountains in detail, as well as his ambush. "I needed shelter," Hedon said. "If I had known that cave belonged to your tribe, I would not have trespassed."

There were no lies in his words, but Dufkarn was not happy with the amount of specifics in Hedon's report of his trek through the mountains. He had a good memory of his path.

"And what do you plan on tellin' folks, once you're free of here?" The chief asked.

"I'm not sure," Hedon admitted. "But I cannot reveal your location. Cadoc is among you, and there are people looking for him specifically. The fact that your tribe is here would mean less to them than _his_ capture."

Dufkarn frowned. "Whaddya mean?"

"Before he left, Lord Faramir –er... _our_ chief, the leader of the southern rangers– sought him out." The man must have noticed his confusion, because he paused. Glancing from Dufkarn to Ashplak, he asked, "Did Cadoc not tell you of this?"

" _Nar_."

Hedon frowned now, thoughtful. "Well, it would not have had much to do with you anyhow," he said dismissively. "Lord Faramir wished to meet Rukhash. There were reports circling that she had bewitched Cadoc. I beseeched our lord to ride out and meet them, so that he might be persuaded to speak on their behalf to our king, and clear Cadoc's name. He had been charged with treason by a magistrate because of his… liaison."

Dufkarn's heavy brow rose. _This_ was interesting. The treason bit, Dufkarn knew about, but not this bid to clear Cadoc's name. And it was an amusing thought: Rukhash, a _witch_. Of all the stupid...

"And what happened?" he pressed.

"Lord Faramir met with only mild success," Hedon admitted. "The magistrate of our village and a man cured by Rukhash already convinced King Elessar to clear Cadoc of treason. In the stead of that charge, he has been accused of manslaughter because of the deputies he slew at the Anduin during their escape across Gondor. For whatever reason, Lord Faramir could not persuade the king to lift that indictment."

"What's _that_ mean?" Ashplak asked before Dufkarn could. The old goblin sounded uncharacteristically concerned.

"It means there is a bounty out for Cadoc's live capture," Hedon explained. "Slaying a deputy is a serious crime in Gondor. Cadoc is accused of slaying eight. If he is caught and brought before the king, he could be committed to hang for his offense."

"Good thing he's here," Ashplak muttered.

"I agree!" Hedon said. "He was wise to heed Rukhash and travel onward to Mordor, as opposed to beseeching our king for mercy. I am not sure he would have received it."

"I will be honest with you," Hedon continued, "a part of me hoped to run into Cadoc in these mountains. We are good friends, _brothers_ in arms. We have been through many trials together and I have worried for his fate. It seems as though he is safe here. I am relieved to see it is so."

Crazy Eye's boy may have been nothing like his Orc-friend father, but he was an honest lad. He was truly concerned for Cadoc's fate, determined to safeguard his brother. Dufkarn was fairly sure they could release him without worry that he would lead others here, but the Gundbarashal chief had an idea to make sure his notions were accurate. Time and careful watching would reveal any chinks in this story.

"I believe ya," Dufkarn said. "But here's the thing: we've got some issues with our neighbors at the moment. Rukhash says you'll be up an' about in a few days, but I'm gonna have you stay on for a few weeks more, til this blows over. Consider it safe keepin'. If you run inta our troublesome neighbors on yer way back, you'll be dead as sure as that lad you were huntin'. Cadoc tell you what happened ta him?"

"Only that you caught him."

"Well," Dufkarn bared his teeth in a crocodile grin, "that's all you need ta know then, yea?"

"Yes."

"Good," Dufkarn said. "So you'll sit tight fer a few weeks until things're settled, and then we'll let ya off. Fair?"

Hedon sighed. "I doubt my wife will be very happy about that," he groused, "but I'm sure I have no choice in the matter."

"'Fraid not."

"Considering what else you could do to me for trespassing," the ranger said uneasily, "I suppose it's _completely_ fair."

Dufkarn smiled indulgently. "Fig'red you'd see it my way."

* * *

Hedon tried not to flinch as Rukhash swabbed his wound with salve, but it _burned_ horribly.

After Dufkarn's little interrogation, Cadoc and Rukhash filed back in to see to his comfort. Rukhash had brought more fur blankets with her, and propped him up so that he could eat. Cadoc had brought a little stew, and Hedon was relieved that it was very edible.

Hedon relayed to Cadoc what he had discussed with the Orc chief, and his old friend seemed annoyingly fascinated with the knowledge that Ashplak had known his father.

"It is just a strange coincidence," he said in wonder. "Sometimes I feel as though there is a greater hand at work, sending old faces into our lives to make things right, or tie a loose end, but I realize how foolish that is the moment I think it." Hedon shook his head at that. It would seem his time here had made Cadoc somewhat whimsical.

Cadoc had been less enthusiastic about the news of his condemnation. He glanced subtly at Rukhash as she mixed Hedon's medicine, her mouth drawn in a tight, troubled line. "You were right," he said to her, and Hedon heard sorrow in his friend's voice.

Grazad took that moment to return Dera to her father. Hedon thanked her, as Cadoc had suggested, even if she did nearly strike him blind earlier.

"It's nothin'," the old Orcess rumbled, batting dismissively at the air. "Any brother'a Cadoc's welcome in my cave. You go an' git yerself well." She left them to their own devices then, waddling out into the main cave, mumbling something about "checking on the girls".

Dera had a wooden ring with little metal beads threaded on it. She gnawed and shook and gnawed and shook as she eyed him curiously. Hedon looked from the child in Cadoc's lap to his pleased face as he observed her jerky movements. "You are respected here."

"Course he is!" Rukhash scoffed. "Ain't no one more trustworthy'n Cadoc." She smiled at him. "'Cept maybe you, you crazy ox."

"I'll admit," Hedon said, touched by her statement, "this is not how I thought to find you two."

"We did not expect to find _ourselves_ here," Cadoc said. "Yet, here we are, and I am thankful for it. Dera already has friends her size, Rukhash has a position of meaning, and I am content with the duties I have been assigned. An Orc tribe is quite orderly, despite appearances. I was surprised to find it so, though now I'm not sure why. It was a prejudice on my part, I suppose."

"Some groups work together better'n others," Rukhash admitted. "This is a good group. I thought so from the start."

"I will have the chance to see it for myself, I guess," Hedon said uncertainly.

Dera was staring at him, her large, grey eyes round and interested. He offered her his finger for inspection. She grasped it in her tiny hands, curiously turning it this way and that before stuffing the end into her toothless mouth, chewing furiously.

"'At ain't no way ta say 'hullo' to yer Uncle Hedon," Rukhash admonished.

"Cadry does the same thing," Hedon said distantly, gently pulling his finger away. Dera went back to gnawing her wooden ring. "She looks so much like you, Rukhash."

"Cadoc's in there too," the Orc said as she handed him his medicine. "It's just more subtle. Has her dad's eyes, though."

"I noticed."

"Once you are well enough, you can stay with us," Cadoc assured him. "It will be tight quarters, but you may be more comfortable there than sharing a cave with Grazad."

"i appreciate your hospitality," Hedon said and took a sip of the medicine bowl Rukhash handed him. He grimaced and glared at the Orc. "Could you possibly make this taste any _worse_?"

" _Drink it_ ," she growled.

Hedon downed the medicine with a shudder, imagining it was a revenge on her part for some wrong she believed he committed. Wiping his mouth, he regarded Cadoc and Rukhash and their small daughter, glad that they had found a place to call home. He had truly feared for what had become of them once they parted ways all those months ago. Nándra would be furious for his late return, but Hedon could bring word of Cadoc to his sister and mother. His wife would undoubtedly forgive him in the wake of that happy news.

He did not relish the fact that he would be forced to live among Orcs for the next few weeks, but it would be good to see his friend again. There was much they could plan in terms of keeping in touch, and it would give Hedon time to formulate an excuse as to why he had disappeared so long into the mountains– besides, of course, the _actual_ reason.

"I'm glad I found you," he told Cadoc.

His friend and mentor smiled. "So am I."

* * *

Beta: horseyyay AKA Morgoth

(last edit March 2016)


	67. The Enemy

**Splint  
Chapter 67: The Enemy**

* * *

Drifting back to wakefulness, Rukhash opened her eyes to the dark ceiling of her den. The weight of Cadoc's arm draped limply across her naked stomach. Her sensitive ears picked up Dera's light snores, the same as when she drifted off; slow and even. Her daughter was well past an age that Rukhash needed to worry about breathing, but maternal instincts were not something she could shut off like a switch.

Cadoc grunted and rolled to his side, hugging her tighter and pressing his naked body against hers; nuzzling her ear in his sleep. He mumbled something unintelligible, sighed, and fell back into a deep slumber. Rukhash smiled to herself and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. The fires in the main cave made the dens generally hot, but with most of the hearths snuffed out the caverns took on a chill during midday, when most of the Orcs were asleep.

Rukhash staved off that chill and thought of Hedon.

She did not know what it meant that he had chased a bandit here. Turgrat had gotten almost no information from the Man thanks to Gaidurb and Nûtgroth being over eager – she imagined Dufkarn had something sharp to say to them about that. According to Grazad, they had not seen Men in these mountains for over five years; not since they stopped raiding. Rukhash though it was strange a Man would come here now, considering the reputation of the Ephel Duath Mountains. Cadoc had pointed them in this direction because he was sure they would find other Orcs here, and they had. Why would a Man come here at all, if he had no dealings with Orcs; if he was merely a villain as Hedon said?

It was Cadoc who had brought up these concerns a few days ago, while his friend slept unconscious in Grazad's cave and Rukhash tended his injury. Cadoc was usually the worrier of the two of them, but his concern managed to leak into her mind. Her _shaûk_ 's brooding could sometimes be infectious.

Things had been going along so well before Hrat started his funny business. Rukhash wondered why everyone couldn't just mind their own business and tend their families. Why did they always have to fight over every scrap?

The warriors from the Glokong tribe had been here for over a week, but things along the border to the east had been disturbingly quiet. So quiet, Rukhash was wondering when this stillness would break and they would finally have a proper quarrel with their neighbors. Aside from their daily scouts along the eastern slopes of their mountain and the edge of their territory, Botarg's warriors had very little to do. They spent most of the day training or idly lounging in the guest cave.

While she was happy to have some of her family so close, she would have preferred it were her father or mother or brother here. She and Botarg had a complicated relationship, and hadn't spoken more than three words together in all the days her sister had been here.

Never mind the unbearable awkwardness of the Man they brought with them. Cadoc had a very mild opinion of Baan, considering Baan's obvious though unvoiced opinion of _him._ But Rukhash hated him with the single minded hate of a _shaûk_. Baan's anger was a threat to Cadoc, and that was an unforgivable offense in Rukhash's eyes, even if he hadn't acted on his feelings.

"Let it alone," Cadoc had said when she mentioned her anger. So, she had let it alone. It was not her place to meddle in his affairs, and so far, Cadoc was handling the situation on his own perfectly well.

"Healer."

Rukhash startled and glanced out through the main section of their den to the wide, low entrance. Dufkarn's green eyes gleamed in the darkness. He motioned towards Cadoc sleeping at her side.

"Wake 'im up," the chief ordered before vanishing into the main den, not bothering to ensure that she obeyed. He expected her to.

Cadoc hadn't moved a muscle. He and Takhbork had spent a better portion of the night before sparring. Cadoc wanted his friend to be as prepared for the battle to come as he could be, even if he was bottom of the list when it came to filling out the ranks. With that long session added to his work in the forge – cutting and grinding and sharpening – Rukhash imagined he must be exhausted. But there wasn't much to be done if Dufkarn wanted him out on a mission. Rukhash rolled to her side and nuzzled his neck.

"Wake up, _shaûkizub_ ," she rumbled.

He sighed and shrugged away, rolling over. "Not now, Rukhash," he grumbled. "In the morning."

"Dufkarn wants ya," she said, giving him a little shake. "You sleep in an' he'll send Ashplak next, like he did last time."

That had Cadoc sitting up. He rubbed his eyes wearily. "The last thing I want is that old goblin staring at me while I get dressed." He stifled a cough and pulled on a pair of trousers before stumbling out into the main room of their den. Rukhash transferred a sleeping Dera from her basket to cling around her neck. Dera could sleep almost anywhere with her little claws dug in. Just the other night, Rukhash had hung her from a ridge on the wall in Grazad's cave for over an hour while she made poultices.

She watched Cadoc dress in the reinforced leather vest she stitched for him; stash two smaller knives in his boots and another long knife along the strap at his back; and buckle his sword to his belt. He stashed his short bow and small quiver on his back – over the long knife – before donning his old ranger's cloak. Rukhash remembered the first time he had worn it out on a scouting mission. The rain had been awful, and he needed something that wasn't leather. He had been so nervous, but no one even mentioned it. Now he wore it without reservation if he was going out in incliment weather.

Knowing that she would have no sleep if she didn't discover what was about, she followed him out into the main den. It was bad form for her to gather at a warrior's circle, but Rukhash could hear well enough from Ranmor's perch. The _shatroklob_ was awake, sitting with Bhrafmor, and obviously just as interested in the conversation Dufkarn was having with his soldiers. She noticed Rukhash approach and made a little room for her to sit, even though the slab of stone was empty aside from Bhrafmor and herself. It was an invitation Rukhash could easily accept.

"What I miss?" Rukhash asked her as she settled in.

"They's goin' out ta check the border east. Nothin' so unusual, 'cept Dufkarn wants them out in the day ta try an' catch someone asleep."

"It's not a bad plan," Rukhash muttered. "Cadoc said all the rain washes tracks away afore they might get to 'em."

"Your sis is goin'."

"Yea?"

"An' she's bringin' that Man of theirs with 'er."

Rukhash didn't know what to say to that. It wasn't her place to argue with Botarg, but Baan made her very nervous for Cadoc. She tilted her ear back and listened.

"Sapatuk and Shaaraguk'll go with you," Dufkarn was telling Cadoc. "Just in case."

"In the day?" Cadoc asked, glancing at the sisters. They made their marks together, and that was a bond of its own, but Rukhash couldn't see what help two goblins would be in the daylight. Maybe she could volunteer…

"They got better eyes in the day'n most. Not the best, but the clouds're thick enough they should be fine. I'd send Muhrgra too, but I need him on the eastern slope."

"Don't you worry if that Man tries nothin' funny," Sapatuk hissed.

"We'll stick 'im afore he knows what's what," Shaaraguk finished.

"Let's hope it does not come to sticking," Cadoc said. Her _shaûk_ , always the peacemaker, but Rukhash really did hope it did not come to blows. Their guests had been mostly congenial except for a few pissy comments, but killing one of their number would not go over well. Especially if they were as fond of Baan as the Gundbarashal were of Cadoc.

Dufkarn was of the same mind as her. "At's right," Dufkarn agreed. "No causin' no trouble unless he gets troublesome. Been keepin' his nasty little looks to himself so far. Ain't no reason ta think he won't keep it professional. We've all needed ta fight alongside bloke we ain't liked at some point."

Ashplak snorted. "I can think of a few what didn't stay along my side fer long. Not that I did nothin', but that were just it, I didn't do nothin' fer 'em."

"I'd rather that than grow eyes in the back of my head," Cadoc said. "We will see what we will see when it comes to Baan." He turned towards Shapatuk and Shaaraguk. "For now, I will be happy to have a few girls I can trust alongside me." The sisters grinned and elbowed him companionably.

"That's a good pair to have with him," Ranmor commented quietly, and Rukhash agreed. Cadoc had praised their hunting prowess on more than one occasion, they were always politely friendly with her, and - though they were a little edgy and short tempered around children - they showed Dera a patient difference. If she couldn't be there, and Takhbork couldn't be there, then Shapatuk and Shaaraguk were a good third.

Botarg chose that moment to stride up with Baan. She glanced briefly in Rukhash's direction before addressing Dufkarn. "Your group ready?"

"That they are…"

" _What_ is he wearing?" Baan was staring intently at Cadoc, and Rukhash bristled.

"You know how hard someone is to shoot wearin' one of these things?" Ashplak stated cooly, grabbing the hem of Cadoc's cloak. "It's a good color. Blends into the trees, 'specially in the day."

"Asides," Dufkarn added, "I don't mind Hrat's boys thinkin' we have the _tarks_ working for us."

Cadoc rolled his eyes, but didn't seem all that angry, despite the slur. "Because that is how we call ourselves."

"Shut it, you," the chief grumbled good naturedly. "Just sayin', it looks like an advantage on our part. Don't get pissy."

"Don't give a shit what you wear so long as we find something today," Botarg growled. "My folk is gettin' restless for a fight."

She strode past them and out the main entrance.

"I am ready when you are," Cadoc said as he glared at Baan, gesturing towards the tunnel.

Baan's dirty look got a little dirtier before he followed Botarg out. Shaaraguk glanced up at Cadoc with an amused smirk. "He bleedin' _hates_ you. You sure you two don't know each other?"

"I am quite positive," Cadoc replied as he followed after Botarg and Baan, the sisters at his side. Their conversation continued down the tunnel, but Rukhash couldn't hear it. She turned back towards Ranmor and Bhrafmor sitting across the way.

"He'll be fine," Ranmor stated cooly.

"Cadoc's too tough to let that prick get the better of 'im," Bhrafmor agreed firmly, and Rukhash smiled.

"Is'at right?"

"Well," Bhrafmor stuttered, suddenly shy, "you know 'im best."

Rukhash thought her little crush on Cadoc had abated in the past day or two. Now that Hedon was here, there was a new, less obviously attached prospect. Never mind that Hedon was a big lad, and Bhrafmor seemed to have an eye for big lads. His status as Crazy Eye's son seemed to have made the rounds as well. Rukhash had no idea what picture of Hedon Bhrafmor had painted in her head, but it was better he dashed it himself. "Why don't we go check on Hedon?" Rukhash offered. Ranmor gave her a dark look.

"You need help with 'im?" Bhrafmor asked, sounding far too excited. Her mother went a little pale.

"Go fetch some fresh water and meet me in Grazad's cave."

The young healer bounded from her mother's stone perch and hurried towards the clan's communal fresh water. Ranmor watched her exuberant exit with a downtrodden expression.

"It's a weird phase," Rukhash told the _shatroklob_.

Ranmor's look went dirty. "Says the girl _hitched_ to a Man."

Rukhash snickered. "Hedon's married anyhow. Don't worry, I don't think he plans on stealin' yer little girl away."

"That _ain't_ funny."

"Trust me, Hedon ain't gonna think it's funny neither."

* * *

"Press it there."

"Here?"

" _Harder_ ," Rukhash ordered and pressed her palm against the young Orc's hand. A thin stream of milky fluid was squeezed from the gauze covering his wound. She applied enough pressure that it bordered on painful. Hedon suppressed a flinch.

He wasn't sure how he felt about being an apprentice's practice, but Rukhash had left him with little room to argue when she woke him early that morning.

"Time ta change yer bandage," she said once he had opened his eyes. "Brought Bhrafmor in ta do it. She's still learnin', but yer outta the woods now." She glanced briefly at the young goblin rocking awkwardly on her haunches in the archway of the cavern. "We might have a lotta wounds like this ta patch once the fightin' starts. She might as well start seein' how it's done."

"Come on, then," she ordered tightly. Bhrafmor snapped to attention and went to the back of the cave, sifting through the pots and canisters stacked there. Her eyes darted erratically from container to container as she chose this ingredient or that, always looking to Rukhash before she pulled her choice from it's place along the wall. Cadoc's wife said nothing, but on the two occasions she shook her head, the girl frowned unhappily and made another choice.

Hedon was amused to note that Dera slept oblivious; clinging to her mother's back; a little puddle of drool gathered in the corner of her mouth. He thought he might be a little jealous. Grazad's snarling snore had kept him up, staring at the stony ceiling, for most of the night. Or was it day? Hedon wasn't sure.

Rukhash's apprentice seemed terrified of her displeasure. She mimicked the same pressure to the gauze as Rukhash pulled another strip of bandage from where it was soaking in a wide, wooden bowl. Hedon really couldn't describe the smell of the stuff. It was like clay and bile and sour cream. "What is that vile concoction?" he asked, trying not to gag.

Rukhash glanced at him and then Bhrafmor. The young Orc seemed to grow more uncomfortable as the silence stretched over the next few seconds. Rukhash scowled. "Well, tell 'im!" she snapped.

"It's…" Bhrafmor had a tiny voice, almost like a hissing whisper. She seemed remarkably mousey for an Orc. "It's like glue," she said after a pause, not daring to look at him. "Can't stitch a puncture wound, so 'is stuff keeps it from opening up."

"And…" Rukhash pressed.

"I was gettin' to it!" the girl snarled, daring to show Rukhash her teeth. Hedon reconsidered her mousiness. "Cleans it out too," she said, and took another length of gauze from Rukhash's hand, pressing it to the wound. Her hands were not as strong as Rukhash's, but Hedon still grit his molars as a stinging pain sang up the length of his thigh. She tied the strip off before starting in on a fresh wrapping. Unlike the cotton gauze, this was done in a soft leather. Hedon imagined a den of Orcs wouldn't have much cotton on hand.

As she continued to dress his wound, Rukhash leaned over, inspecting her dealings with his injury like a hawk. Bhrafmor must have been aware of her intense gaze on some level, because her face was drawn and pensive even though she was singularly focused on the hole in his thigh. Hedon was suddenly reminded of his own tutelage under Cadoc; who had the same preference for hands-on learning, and the same, intense glare for his pupils. But she seemed to enjoy it. Behind that cold, hard look was also a look of pleasedness, as though she had accomplished a great task. Bhrafmor finished binding his wound, and the look on Rukhash's face could only be described as pride.

Hedon never realized Cadoc and Rukhash shared this common desire to teach.

"Now, I think, Grazad needs yer help with the girls," Rukhash said, and with a smirk added, "We can practice more on Hedon later."

Bhrafmor glanced in his direction and seemed to turn a shade darker. She scurried out of the cave, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Rukhash watched her go until she was well out of earshot, then glanced his way with a smirk. "She's sweet on you," she said.

Hedon nearly choked.

"Don't give that look! She's just a bloody girl what don't know no better." The Orcess rolled her eyes and maneuvered Dera so she was cradled in her arms. Her daughter nuzzled into her shirt and started nursing. Unphased – he had seen a woman nurse before – Hedon harrumphed.

"I am quite happily married," he said tightly.

"Course you are," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Bhrafmor's at that age where you start gettin' moon eyes fer the first person what catches yer fancy. Had 'em for Cadoc for a while, not that he'd ever notice. Anyways, she won't try nothin' funny. She's kinda shy in that way anyhow, fer whatever reason. Probably 'cause there's no one her age 'round here ta muck about with. Muhrgra's girls are too rowdy fer her, an' they're a few years older anyhow. An' Gaidurb's boy wouldn't go near her with a ten foot pole. She's Ranmor's daughter, an' he's skerd ta death of ol' Ranmor."

Hedon didn't even try to keep track of all those names. If an Orc den was anything like his own, small village, then their gossip was the last thing he needed to be tangled in.

Bhrafmor did look young he supposed. At first glance, he thought she was a male, because she hadn't quite filled out and was wearing only a long skirt around her waist. It was only when Rukhash called her 'she' that Hedon realized he had guessed wrong. Orcs were just too foreign looking for him to differentiate their genders. He wondered if Cadoc was any good at it, now that he was living among them.

"How old is she?" Hedon wondered out loud.

"Eleven winters, I'd give 'er," Rukhash said. "Orcs don't really keep a good count, but that's what I'd guess based on when Dufkarn took over. Little younger'n I was, when Isengard flooded."

"That is an odd correlation to make," Hedon said.

Rukhash shook her head. "I always think on my life as afore an' after it happened. Just like there were an afore an' after my clan. And an afore an' after Cadoc. Them were big changes fer me. Before the flood, I were just an Uruk brat, going about, thinkin' I were better'n any Orc shorter'n me. After, I were in with the horde – another _snaga_ – an' I had'ta learn to make it on my own. Didn't have nobody ta look after me asides. Not even Grazad, though she taught me all she could squeeze into my head in the short time we was together."

Hedon wasn't sure to make of all that. Rukhash seemed in a contemplative mood. He decided to turn the conversation back to more comfortable ground, or, at least, away from any war stories. "So what do I do about my unwanted admirer?" he asked.

She shook her head. "She won't bugger you, I'd wager. Probably'll just get real quiet an' hedgy. Did that with Cadoc all last week cause he went an' gave 'er one of 'is ermine pelts for a satchel. We got so bloody many of 'em, but I think that were all she needed fer a crush. Don't know why she's on you. Probably 'cause yer a _tark_ an' she knows she can't get Cadoc."

"You are not making me feel better, Rukhash."

She waved her hand though the air with a rasping laugh.

"So, I'll leave it alone then."

"It's the best way," Rukhash said as she detached Dera. "She'll move on in a few weeks when she figures out what a pain in the arse you are."

"You aren't funny, Orc." She laughed again and he returned her smile. How strange that they felt like old friends all of a sudden.

Rukhash's tiny daughter let out a shattering belch and she slapped her thigh with a wide smile. "From yer toes!" Dera giggled and clapped her hands.

"I cannot believe she is barely three months," Hedon said, awed.

"You sound like Cadoc."

"Well, it is really quite remarkable. You forget I just spend Cagney's first year home with my family. I remember her at this age, and she was not nearly so engaged."

"Orc sprogs learn who's gonna help 'em 'n who don't want 'em near right quick. Not all mums are all that lovey with their kids, an' they might need ta go to an aunt or a dad or an uncle instead. Them kinda smarts start early, an' are just as important ta learn as gettin' outta the way."

"I don't think Dera has to worry about sneaking off to an aunt."

Content with her cheek on her mother's breast, Dera dozed and Rukhash nuzzled her daughter's soft baby curls. "I always liked bein' a mum," she said, genuine affection in her voice. "I even liked bein' a big sis. Just fond of sprogs, I guess." She looked at him and shrugged. "I'm queer that way."

"That isn't 'queer'," Hedon said.

She shrugged again. "Some'd agree with you an' some'd think I'm a soft touch cause'a it. Depends on the person, I'd guess. But dens need good mums about, otherwise you end up with a nasty, unruly lot. That's how a lotta the sprogs raised in Mordor were. Only thing what kept them in line was a Captain's whip. Here, there's plenty a girls what're happy ta look after the kids. That's an important resource, that is."

Hedon smiled at her. "An 'important resource'?"

"It's how Cadoc put it."

It made sense that she would acquire a little of her husband's parlance. Hedon thought Cadoc managed to pick up a few of her unorthodox turns of phrase as well when they spoke the night before. "Things do seem well managed, here."

"Dufkarn's a good leader," she said.

"Cadoc certainly respects him," Hedon observed, remembering how his friend abandoned him to the chief's questioning. Hedon liked to think Cadoc would not have done that had he not trusted the Orc. Hedon wasn't particularly pleased with the stipulations of his recovery here, but he did intend to make the best of it. As it was, Dufkarn came across as reasonable, which was more than Hedon could say of most Orcs.

"I think you gotta respect someone ta work under 'em," Rukhash said thoughtfully.

He nodded quietly. "Where _is_ Cadoc?"

"Oh," she sighed. "Out an' about. He's scoutin' the eastern border with a small crew."

Hedon regarded her drawn features gravely. "You are worried."

"'Course I am," she said, her jaw tightening. "I'm always worried when they drag 'im outta bed ta go have a look at dangerous shit."

He wanted to ask what constituted as 'dangerous shit', but thought it better not to press the matter. Rukhash was upset, and that was enough. No sense in making her feel worse. There was little more _he_ could do than hope for a safe return, and question his friend later about the kind of trouble he was getting himself into here. Cadoc had certainly tangled himself in this tribe rather thoroughly.

Instead, of worrying about Cadoc – something that was practically becoming a pastime at this point – he focused on his daughter. Dera was chewing on her mother's hair, and Rukhash pulled her loose braid out of the baby's mouth. The little imp squawked with protest and wriggled violently in her mother's arms, flailing. Rukhash did not restrain her. Instead, she released her daughter with a huff and Dera set at once upon crawling across the stone floor and into Hedon's lap. She settled in on his blanketed legs, her eyes droopy. He was surprised by her sudden exhaustion.

"She's quite sleepy today."

"She's goin' through a bout of it. Happens every week or so. It's normal for Orc sprogs her age."

"Mannish infants as well," Hedon confirmed, rustling her curly hair. Cadoc's hair was dark and Rukhash's more so. He wondered where those little red strands mixed in with the black came from. Her skin, too, had a terra cotta hue. "Her coloring is quite strange," he commented off handedly.

"I think it's cute," Rukhash said with a pout. "Like a little fox."

Hedon laughed and passed the sleeping babe to her mother. "You know, a fox is Cadoc's family crest."

Rukhash grinned. "I know."

* * *

It was a steady, cold rain that pattered down on the forest in the shadow of the Ephel Duath Mountains. _Pulgoruz Taumor_ , the Orcs called it, the Black Wood, and much of the forest suited that name. Cadoc had grown accustomed to it's strangeness, for the forest here was nothing like the eaves he knew in his own country. The ground was forever covered in spongy, green moss. It was only along the edge by the mountains that shrubbery grew. Here, in the deep of the wood the, black ferns made up the undergrowth. The trees were thick, some easily a hundred yards around, and several times as tall. Taller, even, than the highest parapets of Minas Tirith. Their roots were black and long, plunging into the earth like greedy fingers. Before the rains started a month prior, they lay bare and mossy. Now they were mostly drowned by crystal water. In some places, the water was so deep it invited all manner of marine life from the rivers. From the higher ground they traversed, Cadoc could see clear over a drop to the forest floor, where large, silver fish darted among swaying grasses.

The scouting party was forced to navigate the narrow causeways between trees. It was slow going, and Cudgel had to remain behind. There was no way she could walk easily on the soft paths, or climb the roots from one path to another and she would only have slowed them down where they had to wade through waist high pools. The ground was so loose, it would have sucked her down. Sharaguk and Sapatuk had the easiest time of all, even if they were unable to swim. They bounded from bough to bough overhead, unhindered by deep waters. Botarg watched them swing ahead with barely veiled envy.

Cadoc had spent most of the day up to his crotch in frigid water. His hood was soaked through, and he had cast it back hours earlier. Thick droplets dripped into his eye. "We should have brought a boat," he mumbled sullenly.

"I were just thinkin' the same thing," Botarg grumbled. "When do we get to the next dry patch?"

"I do not believe there will be a dry patch until spring," Cadoc joked. She spared him a dark look. "There is higher ground just ahead," he assured her with a sigh. He glanced behind where Baan remained silent, his curved sword balanced on his shoulders. Cadoc had tied his own blade on his back to keep it from being submerged.

"How are you making out?" Cadoc asked.

Baan glared and pressed ahead, passing Botarg. She grasped his shoulder. "How're you makin' out?" she echoed.

"Fine enough," he huffed. "I will be pleased when we find this 'higher ground'."

Dry land was a narrow, rocky ridge that climbed out of the water and wound around several large tree trunks. From there the land arched out of the water and went on for several miles without being submerged. Cadoc thought he heard Botarg sigh audibly at the sight.

"'Bout time," she grumbled.

"This respite is finite," Cadoc informed her. "When we reach the eastern border, the land plunges again. But I doubt that is where we will find out quarry. We should search this stretch thoroughly. Anyone coming through this territory will undoubtedly have stopped here. There are fewer trees and even a small goblin would not be able to go from one end to the other without spending some time on the ground."

As if they heard him, Sapatuk and Shaaraguk descended from the boughs overhead. They were no less soaked for their shortcut. "Bleedin' winter," Sapatuk growled. Shaaraguk shook like a dog, spraying her sister. Sapatuk seemed ready to retaliate when Botarg cut into their sibling shenanigans.

"Enough a that," she growled, and gestured towards a particularly large tree. A section of the trunk jutted out, providing a ledge that might shelter them. "Let's get outta the rain a minute. Grab a bite afore we start lookin' fer whatever it is we're lookin' fer."

They had not discussed who officially led this trek, but Botarg's status as Captain technically outranked all of them. Cadoc had been deferring to her, though she had been looking to him and the sisters as guides since this was their territory. He followed her and the others beneath the ledge, even though every instinct he had told him to be on watch. More than the fact they were near the eastern border, he felt as though they were being watched.

"Did you see anything from above?" Cadoc asked Shaaraguk as he fell behind and in step with the sisters.

"Nothin' outta the ordinary," she admitted. "There's a pair of _glokfûsh_ 'bout half a mile back, but they was asleep. We crept by quiet and you lot didn't even come close to 'em."

"How are your eyes holding up?"

" _Skai_ ," Sapatuk batted the air with her hand. "Ain't nothin', this. Not a stitch of sun ta worry about. I can see fine."

"Me too," Shaaraguk confirmed.

"You are both a rare breed," Cadoc commented, and they grinned.

"Not that rare," Botarg said dryly. "Gijakzi's fine in the day too if there ain't no sun about. Not all goblin folk are blind as bats once a light goes on."

" _Oi_ ," Shaaraguk growled, and let her retort hang in the air.

Botarg gave her a dour look. "Don't mean nothin' by it. It's the truth is all," she said. "I don't see yer chief out here. Or any'a the _older_ warriors, fer that matter."

The sisters frowned and exchanged a look. "Why didn't you bring more'a yer Uruk folk, then?"

"Better ta keep this small," Botarg said, shaking her head. "Folks is gettin' sort'a short tempered. Ain't really sure we'll find nothin' out here, and there ain't no sense in marchin' a whole troop out fer no reason. I'm wonderin' if some'a my crew is right, and Hrat ain't gonna make his move this winter, like Gijakzi thought. Floodin' here is loads worse'n it is up north. Kinda ridiculous, really. I'm surprised you Gundbarashal ain't grown fins."

Sapatuk laughed. "Right, 'cept it ain't so bad if you can climb worth a shit. Hrat's folk're goblins too. They just gotta take to the trees…"

Baan was only half listening to the Orcs' conversation. The _tark_ had taken up a position not far from him, at the very edge of the ledge. His grey eye was keenly focused on the trees to the east, his expression stony. For once, Baan did not look for conceit or ulterior motives in the man's actions. Cadoc looked concerned, and Baan wanted to know why. _Tark_ he may be, but he was also a ranger, and those skills should not be taken for granted. Among the Sajan army, they were practically legendary: those gray-green cloaks. Some even believed they were part of the forests of Ithilien themselves, they navigated the wilderness so silently and keenly. A troop of rangers could ambush a Sajan unit thrice its size and still provide enough confusion and disarray that the whole group would be scattered and lost. Baan held a special hate in his heart for Men of the West, but he did not underestimate them.

"What do you see, ranger?"

He looked startled that Baan had addressed him, and Baan couldn't blame him. Shaking it off, Cadoc nodded eastward. "It is not what I see, but what I cannot," he said. "The tree cover is thick, but look, no light passes through the leaves there." He pointed and Baan did his best to follow the _tark_ 's line of sight. It was a moment before he saw what the _tark_ did, and a part of him had to concede a point to a one eyed man that could catch such a subtle detail. A section of eaves – probably an eighth mile away and a few hundred feet up – was completely blocked. Around it, small patches of grey light filtered through, but that particular section was a mass of green.

"It looks somewhat rectangular, don't you think?" Cadoc noted.

Baan nodded idly. "Like, a hammock? Or maybe a covering?"

"Whatever it is, it does not belong there."

"You two _talk_ to each other now?" Botarg was looking at them with a pleased expression.

Baan suppressed an urge to laugh. Botarg was many things, but subtle was not one of them. "That _is_ why you brought me along instead of Rishgnak, yes? I cannot imagine I am here because you have suddenly grown fond of me."

Botarg sniffed, knowing she was found out. "Mum don't want no family uproar," she muttered. "What are you two so chatty about anyhow?"

"There is something in the trees up ahead," Cadoc said, a bemused expression on his face. "It is very high up, and blocking some of the light."

Sapatuk frowned. "Where?" she asked.

Cadoc directed her gaze to the patch of green that was out of place. She hissed, baring her teeth. "A _kadarnût_!"

"A what?"

"A tent in the trees. We make 'em on long hunts or ta scout along the border. It's a piece of leather folded in half and tied between the branches. You can crawl inside for a nap or ta stay outta sight. It's an old goblin trick, it is. Not many folk think ta look up, an' the trees here are so high, ya might not see one if ya did. That one's huge. There're probably four or five blokes holed up in there."

"If they are still there," Baan interjected.

"They wouldn't leave it up if they weren't," Shaaraguk argued. "It's too big an' easy ta spot if you got too close." She glanced towards the ranger. "But we ain't too close now. Good eye, Cadoc!"

"Should we double back?" Cadoc asked, looking towards Botarg. "It would be safer to confront them with more soldiers at our side."

Botarg was quiet for a long minute as she stared through the boughs at the _kadarnût_. Water dripped down the hard planes of her face. She frowned. " _Nar_ ," she said at length. "They might be off by the time we hiked back out here. It's nearly dark. I ain't worried about us takin' on four or five scouts, but we should be sure that's all there is." She turned towards Sapatuk and Shaaraguk. "You two get up top and have a look around. Give that tent a wide berth, but stay quiet and make sure it's the only one about. Don't think they would set up others out of earshot, so make a quick round and get back fast. We'll need your arrows."

The sisters nodded and were off like a shot. Baan watched them bound into the trees with usual goblin grace and felt a familiar admiration for the unique talents of their ilk. "You two," Botarg continued, looking at Cadoc and himself, "hang back here and outta sight. I'm gonna go say hi."

"On your own?" Cadoc asked, concerned.

A wide, cocky smile crept across Botarg's face. She turned and strode into the forest, splashing through ankle deep water and making as much noise as she could manage. Cadoc glanced in Baan's direction and said nothing, but Baan knew he meant to find cover. The ranger donned his hood and ducked into a thicket of dark ferns, nearly invisible if one didn't know he was there. Baan found a spot under a nest of stringy roots that hid him but allowed him to see into the clearing. In the distance, he heard Botarg shout.

" _Oi_ , you cocksucking dirtbags, I see you up there!" she roared. "Come down an' fight, you nancy cuntholes!"

There was a rumbling and grumbling and a squawk of indignation from the trees, and the rectangular patch bounced and shook. The paint job they had done on their queer tent hid them well when motionless, but now that whoever was inside was moving about, Baan could see it quite clearly. A dark shape bounded from the _kadarnût_ to a nearby bough, and then another and another and another, until there were six goblin Orcs perched over his sister-in-law. Botarg was grinning.

"Think yer smart, dungfilth?" the largest of them called down to her. "I bet you ain't out here on yer lonesome. I bet you planned ta lead us into a trap, but you ain't leadin' us _anywhere_." The Orcs with him were positioning themselves to cut off Botarg's means of escape.

Cadoc made a move to go help her. " _No!_ " Baan hissed. He motioned for the ranger to get low again, before someone saw him. Though an anxious look passed over his features, Cadoc resumed his former position. Baan settled into his own, drawing his curved blade. If there was one thing he was unconcerned about, it was Botarg in a fight.

Two of the goblins had crossbows with them. They loosed arrows, but Botarg brought up her thick forearm and they lodged harmlessly in her armguards. With the same motion, she let pitched a spade-shaped throwing knife and one of the smaller goblins fell the hundred feet to the ground. He landed on his back with a _splish_ , still alive, but out of the fight for the moment. His compatriot let another arrow go and Botarg dodged it easily, moving back towards the clearing. One of the Orcs blocking her path leaped upon her with a shout, a long spear in his hand. With an easy parry, Botarg drew her massive sword – a gift from Gijakzi – and sliced the goblin from shoulder to waist. They were still a ways off, so Baan could only see the silhouette of the Orc as his halves parted, spurting blood like a fountain.

That little move caused Botarg's attackers to draw back a step. "What's the matter?" her voice drifted over the wood. "Skerd, now, are we?"

A cacophony of hooting started up further away, and Baan could just make out Sapatuk and Shaaraguk as they bounded through the trees, heading for the clearing. Three, larger, dark shapes followed them. It was hard to see under the canopy of the forest, but the Orcs chasing them looked furious. The sisters were grinning like a pair of maniacs.

The larger goblin and his comrades turned from Botarg and made to out pace the sisters, but Sapatuk and Shaaraguk were nearly in the open. With one, final leap and a twist, they were in the center of the clearing, staring back at the seven goblins heading their way. Botarg was at a dead sprint, just behind them. The lead goblin shouted something in Orcish that Baan didn't understand.

The sisters drew their short swords and beat their fists against their chests. "Come on, then, fuckwits!" Shaaraguk said. Sapatuk drew another, thin knife that she had stuck in her coiled braid like an overlarge pin.

The ranger had not drawn his sword, but was threading an arrow instead. ' _Smart_ ,' Baan thought. If he had any skill with a bow, he would have done the same. Instead, he would wait to give up his position until the last moment.

That moment came in a heartbeat. Even as Shaaraguk's insult faded on the wind, their enemies were upon them. They wasted no words, and neither did the ranger. He killed a scout with a well placed arrow to the chest. Fortunately, this group was dressed light: no mail, leather armguards that did not look reinforced, and thin, leather vests. The arrow passed easily through the Orc's clothing.

The scout's death did not deter the remaining six. Three of them had already reached the sisters as Baan bounded from his position. Sapatuk was too slow, a lance grazing her side, but Shaaraguk's aim was true and she felled her sister's assailant with a thrust to the eye. Baan engaged the second Orc, trading swords. Another arrow whizzed by his ear, and the third Orc was down.

The other two scouts had already turned to run, including the leader. Botarg took that moment to come crashing into the clearing. With a strategic haymaker she knocked them both back to the ground. The leader she finished with a blow to the skull. Baan killed the other Orc by tossing his blade into the scout's back before Cadoc's shout could halt him.

The ranger trotted into the clearing, to where Shaaraguk cradled her sister. "I'm arright," Sapatuk said, breathless, as he knelt by her side. The _tark_ tore a length of his cloak to help bind her wound. The slice was bloody, but it did not appear life threatening.

Cadoc glared at Botarg and Baan. "We might have left one alive for questioning," he said hotly.

Botarg snorted, undaunted. "We did," she said. The Uruk hai captain strode into the forest. After several, long minutes, she returned with the scout she had pitched a knife into earlier. He was unconscious, but alive, the knife handle still jutting from his wounded gut.

"You got some more cloak to spare?" she said with a grin.

Baan glanced down on the dead scouts and frowned. Now that they were up close, he could make out the tribe marks on their chest. He knelt between two dead Orcs – the leader and a narrowly built underling – examining the symbols carved into their flesh. The leader's was a circle, with an angle entering from the bottom, like an arrow piercing a rubber ball, or a sun setting behind a mountain. The other Orc's mark was three, curved lines perpendicular to one another. Baan did not consider himself an expert in Clan marks – he bore his own reluctantly, and only after Hiskut agreed to marry him – but these different marks would suggest that these Orcs were from different tribes.

"Botarg," Baan called before his captain could make to leave. "Have a look at this…"

Botarg peered over his shoulder as he pointed out the different marks on the Orcs' chests. She swore, and Baan did not have to turn to see her face to know that her cocky smile had been replaced by her customary scowl.

"Dammit," she hissed, and gave the closest body a swift kick.

"What does it mean?" Cadoc asked. Sapatuk frowned from her perch on his back.

"This team is mixed tribe like ours," Shaaraguk explained. She pointed to the lead Orc. "That's Hrat's folk, the mark of the Ranmatûrz, but I don't know that other one."

Botarg spat. "That's Kohrdkraun," she said sourly. "Zriizna's lot."

The ranger frowned and exchanged a look with his tribe mates. "Who are they?"

"A tribe further east," Baan explained. "They are very hostile. Hiskut planned on traveling to her own people with her father before settling with the Glokong tribe, but Zriizna's group turned them back. They took one look at Ishî and loosed their arrows. Hiskut and her father spent three days as their prisoners." A grim anger settled in Baan's stomach, like hot lead. "Hiskut has many scars from their time there, her father also. They were very lucky to escape."

"We should get goin'," Botarg said, turning back the way they had come. "Sapatuk needs her side looked after, and me'n Dufkarn need ta have a chat with this cunt afore he dies."

Pausing, she turned to look back at them. "Good fightin', you lot."

* * *

When she was small, she would listen to the abominable songs of her disfigured dam. She could still recall the delightful malevolence those songs produced in her, perfect in their malice. She remembered the all encompassing dark that wrapped around her like a cold, soothing hate.

She remembered the first time she saw a light. It was hideous, the most vile thing she had ever laid eyes on. When her master, her True Master, ordered her kin from Angmar, to flood the wilds she had seen it; a twinkling spec stuck in the sky. They were repulsive to her, those horrid stars, but not as repulsive as the light that shone in living things. It was in the trees, soft and fluttering, and she hated them; it was in the bugs, flickering, and she hated them. The first animal she came across she tore to pieces, and felt a cool satisfaction watching the light dim and die as the rabbit bled out.

The first time she bore a sprog with a spark was after her master's violent defeat, after he had been dragged into the abyss and the assuring tone of his discordant voice was beyond her mind. She was disgusted that she could produce something so foul, so like the hated races that glowed with their own light, brighter than any animal or tree. That infant was torn to pieces, and her next was pleasingly dark where the spark was.

Her children born after the War of Wrath could not see the sparks. She never knew why, but she suspected it was something lacking in her new master, the sniveling deserter. He was but a lowly apprentice, a poor replacement for a being of real power. Her new master liked orderly things and orderly servants, and she missed the old call to destruction, the familiar despising of all things that were, the abhorrence of existence. Her new master did not hate existence, and neither did her children. They may not have bore a foul light in them, but a part of her detested them anyway for their lack of conviction to _Arda Hastaina_.

She had to teach them proper hate, and see that they taught their own the same, but there were fewer and fewer from her generation left, and less than ever after her second master met his defeat. She crawled into the mountains, and did what she might for the tribe that allowed her to settle with them. The sparks crept up more and more. Killing sprogs was something that these young Orcs rarely did, but she was content to sing the old, dark songs of her childhood, and drive the lights away.

When her false master returned to his seat, and his voice had risen above the subtle whisper it had sustained in his exile, she chose not to heed him. He was no true master. It had taken a host of gods to fell her creator, and this imposter was defeated by a mortal man. The caves emptied, and she was content to be alone, wearied by her efforts to keep the sparks at bay. Long years passed, and the voice grew more urgent. A few times she had nearly left to follow it. Then one day, without warning, it went utterly silent in her mind. She had blinked into the darkness, feeling oddly alone for the first time in her long life.

Orcs returned to the mountains, though she barely recognized them as Orcs. They looked like Orcs – at least, the younger Orcs of this generation; they sounded like Orcs; they still delighted in the blood and suffering of their enemies, as their forefathers had; but that delight was not driven by their hatred of existence. It was but an echo of their ancestors. An instinctual response to fear and pain in others that all Orcs bore from the earliest generation. An instinct strengthened by the culture that sprung from it.

All of these young Orcs were accosted by little sparks; tiny lights that seemed to grow brighter with each passing year. She avoided them as she would avoid any man or elf. Their very presence made her burn with hate. They did nothing to fight it. They did not even know the light was there, growing stronger, binding them to it, to the world it breathed life into. Insidious, wretched light. Worse of all, she could feel the light herself. It hadn't taken her yet, but it had made her forgetful. She could barely remember the words she used to snuff the sparks, and her true master's voice had faded into foggy memory. When the deserter's call still clamoured in her skull, the light kept away. Now, it clawed at the edge of her mind, waiting to slip in.

Once they had been a weapon of shadow; a blade to be wielded in the thick of night; a terror to all that stood before them. They were perfect in their malice. Now they were weak, soft, gentled by time. She could not wholly blame the light either. It had happened so subtly, little step after little step, that there was no wonder it snuck in on the absence of the forces that once drove them. They had done it to themselves, the feeble fools, with their kin ties and their maternal instincts and their _shaûk_ , and she refused to allow it to happen to _her_. If only she knew a way to defeat it. If only she could remember those old songs. If only she could tear it from the breast of every false Orc she saw...

Opening her eyes after another long period of unwanted mental drifting, Old Granny was immediately aware of two, red orbs staring at her from just beyond the bars of her cage. She bore her teeth in a vicious grin.

" _Hello, little spark_."

* * *

**Translations**

_Arda Hastaina_ (Quenya) (lit.) _"_ Arda Marred", an Elvish term for the world as it is; tainted by the evil of Morgoth.

* * *

_Last update May 13, 2016_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I hope horsey will forgive me, but this is unBETAed because I couldn't wait (I already started chapter 68). So, if you see this, H, you have plenty of time to BETA. And if you folks out there see a typo, don't worry, she'll yell at me about it later.


	68. Blood

**Splint**

**Chapter 68: Blood**

* * *

Rukhash hated waiting. Ever since she was small, the task of biding time had seemed insurmountable. When she was on her own, she managed to wear through the endless, lonely days by making medicines for people who would never need them. Her cave had been stacked with enough salve and draught and prepared herbs to see to an entire army. It was lucky for Cadoc, too. Her boredom had saved his life.

This kind of waiting was nothing like that. When she was alone, she had resigned herself to solitude without foreseeable end. Now she was not alone. She had a _shaûk_ and a sweet little daughter and a life among her own kind. Waiting was no longer about whittling the years away. It was about the slow turn of hours that would reveal whether or not a large part of her life was home safe. Rukhash wished she had found a place among the hunters herself. She wished she was with Cadoc now, on his trek to the border. She wished someone was awake to help her wait.

Dera was dead asleep. At the moment, she was nestled with Gruk in Fiilmor and Takhbork's cave. They had been happy enough to take her off of Rukhash's back, even if they seemed a little miffed about being woken up. Bhrafmor had helped Grazad with the pregnant females that needed a mid-day tending and was back in bed herself. The old healer snored on her own pallet, while Hedon slept the rest of the day away as well. She didn't want to be miffed at the old ox for not keeping vigil with her, he had lost a lot of blood and was still recovering his strength.

She didn't bother checking the guest cave. With Botarg gone, there wasn't anyone she knew there. She and Botarg weren't exactly close enough for a long, idle chat either, so she probably wouldn't have checked that cave if her sister _was_ there.

Dufkarn was awake, playing bones with Turgrat and Ashplak. She offered them a little wave but did not join them. Rukhash liked the chief. He was a _good_ chief, but they weren't the friendliest socially and a tiny part of her resented him for shuffling off so many daytime scouting missions on Cadoc.

She took a walk down the long tunnel that led to the small river which supplied the tribe's drinkable water. She didn't feel much like soaking – the hot lake was much better for that – but there was something about the black, gurgling water that Rukhash found relaxing. She picked a comfortable spot on a flat, cool stone and listened to the water.

"You are anxious also?" a voice in the darkness asked, and Rukhash nearly fell of her rock. It was Hiskut, several yards away, sitting cross legged on her own stone.

"Yea," Rukhash replied, feeling stupid. She should not let her concern for Cadoc preoccupy her to the point of negligence. There was enough ambient light in this cavern to allow Rukhash to see perfectly well. "I'm always a little on edge when Cadoc's out."

"Obviously," the uruk replied. "You didn't even smell me."

There was so much mist in the cavern that smells did not travel far, but Rukhash didn't want to argue the point. "If you wanna be alone, I can git," Rukhash offered, not knowing what she could possibly say to Hiskut.

"These caves belong to your tribe," Hiskut replied. "I will leave, if you wish, but I am content to sit in silence also. This cavern is quite meditative."

It was impossible not to feel uncomfortable around this female with how Baan treated Cadoc. Rukhash didn't like making people guilty by association, but Hiskut was Baan's wife or _shaûk_ or whatever they were. They were close, and that made Hiskut an accomplice. Rukhash turned to leave.

"We should speak," Hiskut said, rising.

Her feet seemed to stop without her say so. She wouldn't even _be_ this nice if this woman wasn't here as a guest of the tribe. Her position demanded some kind of deference, even if she didn't want to give it. Rukhash turned reluctantly towards the eastern uruk. "About what?"

"You are Gijakzi and Hegdash's daughter. False ignorance does not become you."

Feeling her hackles rise, Rukhash squared her shoulders. " _I'll_ decide what becomes me're not," she said.

"I did not mean to offend you," Hiskut replied. Rukhash was surprised to see her back down so quickly. She was mighty humble for an easterner. "I mean only that I would like to speak plainly about the awkward situation Baan's behavior has put us in."

"He can think what 'e likes," Rukhash said. "So can you. I don't give two shits 'bout what some _shara_ and his uruk mate think'a me."

It was Hiskut's turn to bristle. "We are not _mates_ ," she stated cooly.

Rukhash was taken aback. "Oh," she stuttered. "I thought…"

"We are not _shaûk_ either, before you ask," she continued. "We are married. That is enough."

"A-Arright…"

"Baan has had experiences with the _tarks_ that have colored his opinion of them as a whole. He holds no personal grudge towards your _shaûk_ or you or your offspring."

"He sure _seems_ ta be makin' it personal," Rukhash said, a little unnerved that Dera was being brought into this conversation.

"He is very passionate," Hiskut explained. "It is both a benefit and a defect of his character. But I assure you, your _shaûk_ has nothing to fear from him. He was a professional soldier for years. He knows his duties, even if he does not like the men he fights with. Besides, he has already been warned by Botarg and myself."

"Well, so long as everyone's threatenin' him," Rukhash said with a shrug. "'Least I won't have ta step in."

"It will be unnecessary."

Easterners were bloody queer. "Great," Rukhash said, ready to leave.

But before she could, Hiskut blurted out quickly, "There is something I have wanted to ask you."

Rukhash stopped and sighed and closed her eyes. She rolled them behind her eyelids. "What?"

"I understand that you and the old healer here are very skilled midwives..." Hiskut paused, and Rukhash was surprised, when she turned, to find the uruk wringing her hands like some kind of nervous maiden.

"What of it?" she barked. If Hiskut wanted something, Rukhash wished she would just out and say it.

She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before she finally spoke. "Baan and I are not mates because we have not been able to have children. We have tried–" She swallowed, and Rukhash was uneasy to note that she looked about ready to cry. Bleeding Eye!

"So, what? You want me ta magic you a kid?" It was cruel to say, but Rukhash wasn't in the most generous of moods. She didn't owe this woman sympathy.

Realizing that she was becoming emotional, Hiskut regained herself and affected a look of cool composure once again. "Of course not," she huffed. "But healers of different tribes are often versed in different medicines. I thought, perhaps, you might have knowledge our healer does not."

Realizing that this was going to probably be a lengthy conversation, Rukhash found her flat, cool rock again and had a seat. She motioned to the space next to her. "Go on," she sighed as if it were a burden. "Have a sit."

Hiskut sat and Rukhash regarded her for half a minute. Eastern uruks were narrow in build, but strong and flexible. Their fighting style was renowned because it relied, not on brute strength, but training and skill and discipline. Hiskut looked as though she had been instilled with her fair share of eastern discipline. Her hazel eyes did not betray her emotion. Eastern Orcs had a slightly mannish look about them because of too much Man in their breeding generations back. Hiskut was an Orc – that was undeniable because of her scent – but just as undeniable was the fact that her ancestry was muddled. Rukhash could see how a _shara_ would fall for her. She was pretty in a severe kind of way, at least by what Rukhash understood of mannish standards.

Rukhash decided there was no point in stalling. Hiskut was a big girl. Best to just out and ask the uncomfortable questions right away. "How many you two lose?"

"None."

Wait. _What_? "None?"

"I have never become pregnant," Hiskut explained.

Rukhash laced her fingers on her head. This was going to be a much shorter conversation than she thought. "Then you two can't have kids."

She could not have injured Hiskut more if she punched her in the gut. At least, that's what her expression looked like.

"You know of no charm? No potion?"

Rukhash shook her head. There were all sorts of weird charms and potions that were made to enhance fertility, and Rukhash knew for a fact that Grazad balked at every one of them. "Trollshit," she called them, and Rukhash was inclined to agree. No sense in instilling false hope with a bunch of fake magic. Hiskut was an Orc woman. If she bred during her heat, then she should get pregnant right away. That was it.

"Ishî ain't exactly yer _krank_ ," Rukhash observed. "There's plenty'a kids out there what wouldn't mind havin' a pair'a good parents."

Hiskut looked completely crestfallen. "You could always have some other lad sire one on you," Rukhash suggested.

"It isn't _him_ ," she insisted.

"'N how do you know that?"

"Because his other wife has given him _three_."

Rukhash was somewhat dumbstruck. She had assumed, because Baan was a Man, that he had demanded the same, singular fidelity from his wife that Cadoc demanded of her. A second wife… if she could only get Cadoc to agree to _that_!

Pushing aside that tempting mental tangent, Rukhash focused on the female in front of her. "You like the kids he's got?"

"They are lovely children," she said. "But his first wife is _shara_ , and so, I have not drawn too close to them."

"Why not?"

"They will live out a _shara'_ s life span, which you know, is much shorter than our own. When your _shaûk_ is gone, you will have your daughter and any other children you produce to keep him with you, when Baan is gone…"

Considering Cadoc was out on a dangerous mission, the thought of his eventual death was not a subject Rukhash wished to ruminate on. "Cadoc'll be with me 'cause he'll be in my heart. My Dera's my Dera, but she ain't no replacement fer her dad."

"But you will always be able to see in her your _shaûk_."

"I guess," Rukhash said, though she was having a hard time grasping what Hiskut was getting at. She would not remember Anbagûrz less because the children they had together perished. Nor would she forget Rangmau or Raugvarg because she had Dera. "But he's got other kids you can moon over, even if they don't go on an' on. And they'll have kids and the like…"

"I will not guard over the family of his _other_ wife like some manner of benevolent spirit, watching each generation wither and fade until I do the same." A resigned look came over her, and Hiskut stood, saying, "I had hope you might know of some way, but if this is what I must accept, then so be it."

As Hiskut retreated, Rukhash did something that she had learned from living with a _tark_ family over a winter. She tried to imagine what Hiskut must be feeling; never able to have any kids. Rukhash liked sprogs generally, though she had to admit that she did feel a kind of preference towards her own. She supposed that was only normal. But if she couldn't have her own kids, she would probably be content to take in an unwanted one. Maybe Hiskut wasn't the kind to be content to take in one that wasn't hers. Maybe this news was worse than not having a part of Baan still around; there wouldn't be a part of herself around either. Maybe it was easy to be flippant about not having any kids when you could have as many or few as you wanted.

"Oi," Rukhash called after her. Hiskut paused. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you out," she said, and meant it. "Plants can only do so much."

She made a dismissive gesture, though Rukhash could tell she was putting on a brave face. Hiskut probably wanted to get out of there before she started crying again. "It is a minor matter," she said.

"No it ain't."

Hiskut smiled wanly. "I hope your _shaûk_ returns safely," she offered.

"Same fer yer husband," Rukhash replied. For Hiskut's sake, Rukhash could wish Baan well, at least until he started giving Cadoc a hard time again.

With Hiskut gone she was alone, but Rukhash knew that her planned sit would not be as relaxing as she'd initially hoped. She headed to Fiilmor and Takhbork's cave to retrieve Dera.

* * *

_She was smiling at him again._

_There was blood on her teeth and little bits of something Hedon did not want to think about stuck in her hair and a look in Lagash's feline eyes that made him shudder. He firmed his jaw instead, hoping that he looked defiant. His father always said that Orcs could smell fear, and Hedon did not want this Orc thinking that he feared her._

_But he did fear her. Lagash and her malformed imps had joined his father's band a few nights ago with good information on a mark and a hiding spot that no one would find. That mark was dead now. Her offspring were using his bits and pieces in some kind of grisly game. The larger one, Drukh or Dragh – Hedon was not sure how to say his name – had invited him to join them, but Hedon had politely declined, remaining as close to his father as he dared while they tore the man to pieces. Lagash had laughed and laughed, purring when they offered her bloody parts as though they were some kind of trophy. It was a grisly end. Hedon though it would have been kinder to slit the old man's throat along with his guard, but his father had thought to reward their benefactor with a plaything. "It's only fair," he'd said, with a dark look in his eye._

_Hedon supposed he was right. Most Orcs demanded some payment in flesh to do business with them. That didn't mean he had to enjoy listening to the man's screams as he was torn limb from limb._

_Lagash and her brood were not the first Orcs to join them, nor were they the cruelest. Before her, it had been Zaruth and his brothers, Guruth and Furuth. Before them, it had been Rashgragar, a huge, cantankerous uruk from the Ash Mountains. As far back as Hedon could remember, he could remember Orcs about; snarling, swearing, short-tempered. Zaruth and his lads had been funny, at least. Not good natured per se, but in it for a lark. Furuth used to sing the raunchiest drinking songs, and his father would roar laughing on the nights when a job went well and they had full bellies and fuller steins. Hedon would drink his own cup with them and giggle at the drunk Orc's flush-faced swearing. A small part of him had actually been sad to see them head east for the "call", whatever that was._

_Their newest Orc compatriot sang no drinking songs. Lagash was not funny, and neither were her children. She reminded Hedon of a lizard, cold eyed and cold blooded. He hoped whatever called Zaruth away would call her too._

_Hedon felt as though he had been sitting at his father's feet forever while he and his gang sorted through the silvers and silks they'd plundered. Ackwel was there, half his face covered with obscene burn marks from a job gone wrong well before Hedon was alive. Even his red hair was patchy on that side. He had been doing most of the sorting, sifting coins through his thick fingers. Silent Kip kept sharpening his blade, though Hedon was sure it must have had a razor edge by now. His steel blue eyes were as cold as ever. Seever and Seward, dark skinned twins from the south, were sleeping on the fine silks. They had done the work of covering their trail, and were well bushed. His father, Crazy Eye Eaton, had found a keg of good brandy among the spoils and was sharing it with red-faced Glenna,_ _the gang's resident matriarch_ _._

_She was not his mother, but since his mother was long dead, she was the closest thing he had to one. Not that she was the motherly sort. Glenna had the face of a bulldog and the temper to match, but she was oddly protective of him when circumstances were dire._

" _Come now, Lagash, stop giving my boy that look," she said, glowering as only Glenna could glower._

_The Orc feigned and innocent expression. "What look's that, miss?"_

" _The look like you're going to eat him."_

_Lagash smiled that horrible, crooked-toothed smile of hers. "Maybe I will, miss."_

_Hedon's father slammed the pummel of his curved blade on the stone floor with a loud_ thud _and Hedon jumped. "That's enough of that!" he said, red faced. His eyes looked almost black. "It was a fine lead you gave us, but I'll have no one talk of eating my son. Stop frightening the lad. He's not used to cold-eyed girls like you. Go on and see to your brood."_

_The Orc made a laughing, hissing noise in the back of her throat and sauntered a little further into the cave, where her children played. At least the tunnel curved somewhat and he was spared the sight of the butchered merchant. Hedon shuddered._

_A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and Hedon turned to face his father. "She's not nearly as pleasant as Zaruth, eh?"_

" _I don't like her," Hedon said, keeping his voice low. Orcs had good hearing, and he didn't want to make an enemy of Lagash._

" _Well, I don't think we'll be keeping company with her and her boys very long," his father said thoughtfully. "Lagash strikes me as the wandering type. She'll probably take her cut and be off into the night."_

" _Good."_

" _I couldn't agree more," Glenna said, her voice a little growl in her throat._

_That night, Hedon shared his father's pallet. He was glad they hadn't picked up a wayward whore lately, because he wasn't sure he would get much sleep otherwise tonight. He edged so they were back to back and stared into the dim cave. Though Glenna was keeping watch outside, Ackwel was sitting up, his attention set towards the back of the cave where Lagash and her imps were bedded down. His father and the gang didn't trust the Orc either. Hedon couldn't say he felt any safer, even with Ackwel's sharp eye on business._

_It seemed as though the minutes passed like hours as the fire dimmed and finally went out. Then, it was utterly black. Hedon released a long, stuttering sigh._

" _Are you still up, Hedon?"_

_He nearly jumped out of his skin. He thought his father had fallen asleep a long while ago._

" _Can't sleep," he whispered._

_He felt his father shift onto his back. A thick arm draped across his shoulders. "You did well as lookout today," his father said._

" _Thanks, da," Hedon mumbled, feeling proud at his words, but still troubled by the rest of events that night._

" _Is it our new Orc friends bothering you? Don't like what they did to the fat, old merchant?"_

" _It was awful," Hedon admitted._

" _More awful than what you did to that guard?"_

" _That was different," he said defensively. "He was making a run for it." One of the younger men guarding that wealthy merchant had tried escape when he saw his comrades fall. Hedon knew it was up to him to take the man down before he could get away and raise an alarm. He managed to trip him in the dark, and buried a knife in his back. It was a messy kill. The guard had screamed and screamed and Hedon stabbed and stabbed until he stopped screaming. He hadn't felt anything then, not horror or pride or fear, just an indescribable need to help out the gang; to be a useful member, not some seven year old boy they dragged along behind them. After, covered with blood, he felt a cold pride. His father's praise was all for him._

" _I suppose it was," his father replied thoughtfully._

" _Didn't torture him," Hedon said._

" _No you didn't," his father agreed, patting his chest. "It was good work you did, and don't forget it."_

_There it was, that little swell of pride. Hedon didn't know why it had to be marred by this undefined anxiety. "Feel kinda bad about it now, I guess," he said, though he wasn't sure if he really did. It had felt good to be useful._

" _Oh?" his father sounded intrigued. "Why's that?"_

" _Dunno," Hedon said. "Coulda done him cleaner."_

_His father chuckled fondly. "That's true enough, my boy. Maybe we'll work on those knife skills of yours. This was a good haul. I think we could take some time off; lay low and enjoy our earnings."_

" _Yea?" Hedon liked time off. Doing jobs was dire business, wrought with danger. Half a year back, Glenna was hurt bad by a ranger that had caught up with them on the getaway. They all thought she was going to die. They'd killed that ranger good, but that didn't make the days and weeks they waited for her to recover any less anxious for Hedon. He had already lost a mother he never knew, he didn't want to lose the one he did know._

_Time off meant a month or three of the quiet life in a border town, somewhere they wouldn't have to worry about lawmen. With all the loot they pulled off this robbery, they would probably live like kings for half a year. Hedon could learn some good fighting skills in that time. Maybe his father would buy him a sword._

" _Time off sounds great," Hedon emphasized._

" _I think so too," his father yawned._

" _I'm for that," Ackwel said from the darkness. He was still on watch, apparently. "Sure am sick of sleeping in caves."_

_His father barked out a laugh and rolled back over. "Well, now that we have that settled…" His voice trailed off and a snore erupted from his throat and just like that he was asleep._

_Wriggling himself comfortable, Hedon stared into the darkness, feeling sleepy himself. A pair of piss yellow eyes stared back at him from the rear of the cave and Hedon sidled himself up against his father's back, suddenly wide awake. Those luminous eyes belonged to Lagash, and though he could not see any of her features, Hedon was fairly sure she was grinning._

* * *

Hedon startled awake with a shout. Across the fire, the old Orc sharing her cave startled awake with him.

" _What_?" she squawked. "What is it?"

Red eyes were a strange feature only because Hedon could not think of an animal besides Orcs that had them; unless they were albinos. Grazad's red eyes made her look tired, or like she'd been popped in the face. She seemed like a weary, old thing. The Orc blinked her bewildered, red eyes at him and Hedon was immediately sorry for waking her up.

"It was a dream," Hedon told her. "I apologize."

"Bleedin' Eye," she breathed and clutched her chest dramatically. "Stop a bitch's heart, why don't ya. What'd you dream about 'at's got you yellin' like that?"

"I can't recall it," he lied.

Grazad hauled herself up and regarded him skeptically. "Can't recall it?" she stated, as though she saw through his little fib. "Well, them are the worst kind'a dreams, ain't they? Scarin' the shit outta you without you rememberin' what had you so terrified."

"Yes, it is quite disconcerting," Hedon agreed, not meeting her red gaze.

"Hn," she grunted. Retrieving a few, small logs from the corner, she began to stoke the fire. Hedon watched as she padded around her little cave, reaching her long arms nearly from one end to the other as she prepared a pot of tea. She didn't ask him if he wanted any, but it seemed as though she was making enough for a small army. Did he even _want_ Orc-tea? He could probably use a warm drink after the start he had this morning.

His leg throbbed dully. Hedon rubbed the top of his thigh. "You don't suppose Rukhash is awake, do you?"

Grazad glanced outside her cave. "She's on her stoop, playin' with Dera," the old Orc announced.

"Is she so close?"

"Just across the way," Grazad confirmed breezily batting the air. "Likes keepin' an eye on old me, I guess. Why you need her?"

"It's my leg," Hedon explained. "It aches quite a bit."

"Oh!" she waddled to a stack of pots behind her bedding. "You should've said somethin'. I got just the thing for that."

"I'd rather a healer look at it."

She turned towards him, glaring – those red eyes were quite disconcerting when they glared – grabbed a pebble from the ground and pitched it at his head. It hit him square between the eyes.

"Ow!" Hedon clutched his offended brow. "What was _that_ for?"

The old Orcess said nothing. She snatched up a slightly larger pebble, stamped to the mouth of her cave and pitched it outside.

"Ow!" Rukhash squawked from what sounded like several yards away. The old Orc had good aim. "What the fuck, Grazad?" Rukhash shouted. "What was _that_ for?"

"You didn't tell him I'm the one what taught you all you know?" Grazad said hotly.

Rukhash appeared at the mouth of the cave holding Dera and rubbing her forehead. "It didn't come up," she said, and glanced at Hedon. "Hey, you. How ya feelin'?"

"He's achy," Grazad answered for him. She poured a fine, yellow powder into a wooden cup and added some cold water. Handing the cup to him, she ordered, "Drink."

Hedon looked from the cup of yellow liquid to the wrinkled Orc.

"Best drink it," Rukhash advised. "Grazad were a Pitmaster in 'er day. You don't wanna piss 'er off, lemme tell you."

A Pitmaster? Hedon thought Orc Pitmasters were supposed to be the meanest of the mean among them. Grazad looked more like a shriveled potato than a former Pitmaster. Still, he didn't want to anger the Orc who's cave he was sharing. He drank her foul tasting remedy with a grimace.

Grazad crossed her arms sullenly. "Cadoc knew about me."

Rukhash laughed. "'Course _Cadoc_ knew about you. We're _shaûk_. We talked about when we was kids 'n stuff. Me'n Hedon ain't really that close." Rukhash glanced at him. "No offense."

"None taken," Hedon said. "Much of that is my own fault. You did try."

Grazad gave them both a curious look.

Setting Dera on Grazad's bed, Rukhash wrapped her arms around the old Orc, nuzzling her cheek. "I'm sorry I forgot to tell everyone I met what a fine, smart teacher I had. Don't be mad at yer Rukhash."

Rolling her eyes, Grazad replied, "I guess I'll forgive you this time, but you better tell everyone from now on."

Playfully, Rukhash gave her a little salute. "Yes'm," she said.

"Shaddap." Grazad turned and plucked Dera from her spot. "You wanna play with yer Granny Grazad?"

Dera squealed and grabbed the flappy skin of the old Orc's neck. Grazad chuckled. "My little sweet one! Let's sit outside." She called to Rukhash over her shoulder, "Finish up the tea, you."

Much to Hedon's surprise, Rukhash began setting out cups without protest. It was obvious that Rukhash regarded the older Orc with great respect. "Do you know her from Isengard?" Hedon asked aloud.

Rukhash shook her head. "Mordor," she said.

That made sense. Though short compared to Rukhash, Grazad was still a good size larger and heavier than northern goblins. Sudden realization dawned on Hedon. "Wait," he said anxiously. "Was she _your_ Pitmaster?"

The Orcess grinned. "She was."

Rukhash was wearing a long tunic, but the cut was low, revealing her tooth necklace and the scar across her chest as well as many of the winding scars on her back. Had Grazad given her _those_.

"What she taught me were worth every lash," Rukhash said, as though she had read his mind. "I doubt I woulda listened to 'er otherwise, what with me bein' a 'fightin' Uruk hai' an' all," she smiled wryly. "I were a real shit when I was a brat. You shoulda heard the lip I gave 'er."

"You're lucky I didn't kill ya," Grazad said from outside.

"I was just gonna say that."

They had an obvious, friendly rapport. Much friendlier than Hedon would have suspected, considering Rukhash had been beaten by that old Orc woman when she was a girl. Hedon wasn't sure what to think of Grazad now…

"She saved our lives when we showed up here, me'n Cadoc," Rukhash continued, gauging what he imagined was a dubious expression on his face. "Dufkarn woulda had our heads for trespassing if she didn't speak up fer us, just like we spoke up fer you. You don't know what Mordor was like. I lucked out. There were bosses done way worse'n lose their tempers now and again. You shoulda seen what my dad did to the lads what worked under _him_. I seen him kill lads for crossin' him, and they done way less 'en give him lip."

She sat up, a thoughtful look on her face. "I can't imagine what he'da done ta someone 'at talked back ta him like I did ta Grazad," she said, staring into the middle distance. "Shit, he'da probably gutted the bloke in front of everyone as an example." She turned to look outside the cave, presumably at Grazad. "You was a soft touch," she said.

Grazad waddled in with Dera on her hip. "Sha, all that mess! I was too old fer that nonsense by the time you showed up." She reached out to fondly pat Rukhash's cheek. "Asides," she continued, "you was a bright mite. Ain't never seen no one pick up the craft like you did. It was like you was born fer it. You just needed the proper motivation."

It was probably not his place to judge their relationship. What Grazad and Rukhash had been through in Mordor most likely went beyond what he could imagine, and they had been through it together. It made sense, he supposed, that they would have found camaraderie in that shared experience. Besides, Rukhash _was_ a good healer, and if it was Grazad that taught her those skills, then Hedon should be somewhat thankful to this old Orc. Cadoc would have died on Rukhash's mountain otherwise, no matter how much the Orcess wanted to help him.

And _he_ was now alive because of her as well. One action had numerous consequences moving forward. If Rukhash and Cadoc had never met, then she would not have been here to speak for him and tend to his dire injury. It was Rukhash's place to forgive Grazad, not his. Hedon decided to keep looking at her as he had been: an old Orc woman that was kind enough to share her home with him.

Hedon wanted to say something in the wake of all the information imparted, but could think of nothing. Grazad took her tea and headed back outside with Dera. Instead of handing him some tea, Rukhash sidled up alongside him.

"C'mon, you ox," she said with a friendly smile. "Let's get you up and outside. Part'a the reason yer leg's hurtin' is because you been layin' here for days."

"Is it safe?"

"No it's gonna kill ya," Rukhash said dryly. "Course it's safe, you idiot. Now shaddap an' help me help you."

Rukhash was a head shorter than Cadoc, so Hedon thoroughly dwarfed her. Still, she was deceptively strong. He put his arm over her shoulders and with a grunt, she hefted him up in one go. It was actually a little dizzying.

"Give me a minute," he said once he was standing. His legs felt like wet noodles. She supported his weight as he steadied himself. With a nod he told her, "Alright, let's go."

Thankfully, outside the cave was not very far. Rukhash didn't rush him, but Hedon was glad once he was sitting again. Walking had felt good, but it was also exhausting. He was dizzy again by the time they were outside.

Now nursing a cup of tea, Hedon had a better view of the larger cavern that these Orcs inhabited. Grazad's den was situated in a pocket of the larger cave. Across the way, there was a slit-like opening over a little stair leading to a wide slab of stone. Hedon noticed a wooden _Nothrim Taith_ sporting a jumping fox above it, and he knew that was Cadoc and Rukhash's den. The greater cavern was lit by various pit-fires that caused wide spaces of dancing shadow, but he was able to make out the stepped floor that undulated throughout. There were Orcs perched outside various small cave openings, their own homes, he imagined. On the far end, stones formed a kind of platform, and a large number of Orcs were gathered on top. They were sitting in a semi circle, seemingly in conversation, though Hedon caught their movements as a flask was being passed around.

It seemed sparsely occupied, but then, more and more Orcs were beginning to emerge from their holes. Dusk must have come, if these Orcs were just now waking. Hedon did not spy his friend among them.

"Where is Cadoc?" he asked idly.

"Still out," Rukhash said sullenly. "Takes about half a day to reach the nearest eastern border. They should be back soon, though."

Hedon glanced at Dera, who was giggling as she wriggled where she sat while Grazad clapped for her. "Dance, dance, dance!" the old Orc chanted, and Dera wriggled and laughed.

Rukhash sported a thoughtful smile while she watched them.

"You are happy here," Hedon observed.

"I'm glad we're settled," Rukhash said. "Don't like this business with our neighbors, but it can't be helped. Some folks just 'ave a stick shoved up their arse."

Hedon chuckled.

There was a loud commotion from the main cavern. A number of Orcs were gathered around a large cave at the far end. The group on the platform were hurrying to join them. A goblin Orc appeared suddenly from the gloomy cave followed by a large uruk woman and a dark skinned man, which surprised Hedon only for a moment before Cadoc emerged, striding quickly towards Rukhash. He had a goblin draped across his back. Another, broad shouldered Orc followed him as he approached, his face grim. Cadoc was covered in blood. Rukhash jumped to her feet while Grazad went to her cave.

Rukhash pointed to the Orcs following Cadoc. "Get Bhrafmor up!" she ordered as Cadoc eased the goblin he was carrying onto the stone floor. The Orcs scurried to obey her.

Many things seemed to happen all at once. Dera was spirited away by a female Hedon did not recognize. Grazad had a rolled cloth under the injured Orc's head and a litany of supplies under her arm that she was beginning to lay out. Rukhash began ripping the Orc's clothes off and Hedon quickly realized this patient was female. They removed a makeshift bandage that looked like it was once Cadoc's cloak and, after a quick assessment, began packing her wound, working almost wordlessly, though when they did speak it was Orcish. Cadoc crouched near him, but his attention was on the injured Orc woman.

The uruk strode up calmly and dumped another goblin on the floor. "This one needs shoring up too," she said dispassionately. "But don't pay too much mind ta him. He just needs ta talk."

"Bring, 'im here, sis," Rukhash said, and pulled a few supplies from what Grazad had gathered. Bhrafmor took that moment to show up, and Rukhash directed her towards the goblin woman. She said something in Orcish and Bhrafmor joined Grazad, taking up a needle and thread. She looked nervous but determined as she began to stitch up their female patient.

The uruk dragged the second goblin in front of Rukhash by his leg. "Bleedin' fuck, Botarg!" Rukhash hissed. "You want him alive or not?"

"Just do your job, Rat," the uruk hissed and turned to speak with the chief.

As the healers worked, Hedon eyed his friend warily. Cadoc had a pensive look. "You are well?" Hedon asked.

"Fine," Cadoc said, obviously distracted.

Hedon glanced back at the female Orc, now being bandaged. "She is a friend?"

"We earned our marks together," Cadoc replied, as if that was an explanation. He turned to Hedon, as if realizing who he was speaking to. "Yes," he said. "She is a friend. And too young to be sporting such an injury."

Hedon couldn't say she was any age. The Orcess had rough features. He would take Cadoc's word for it. "How did it go?"

Dufkarn was standing just outside the circle of activity. He looked straight at Cadoc, beckoning him with a curled finger. Cadoc patted Hedon's shoulder. "I will explain later," he said. With that, his friend left. Hedon sat with a cup of tea in his lap feeling utterly useless.

Rukhash was packing the wound of the other goblin, swearing as his blood crept up her arms. The chief grasped her shoulder. "Will 'e live?" he asked.

"Not long."

"Don't bother with that, then," he said. "Get the draught and wake 'im up."

Rukhash retrieved a bottle and a flask from Grazad's cave and followed the chief and the uruk woman as they dragged away the other Orc. He was obviously a prisoner. Hedon did not envy his fate.

Grazad stood and patted Bhrafmor on the shoulder. "That's good stitchin'" she said, and the girl beamed. Two other Orcs had gathered around their fallen comrade. The three of them looked remarkably similar. _'Her family,'_ Hedon realized.

"She'll be arright?" the larger of the two asked.

Grazad thumped his arm. "She'll be fine," she confirmed. "That trek back made it worse'n it was. She bled more'n she had to, but, with plenty'a rest, she'll be up and about soon enough. We'll get 'er moved somewhere more comfortable in a bit, when the chief has things settled."

The larger Orc sagged with relief, and embraced the smaller goblin next to him in an awkward, one arm hug.

Grazad turned towards Hedon. "How _you_ doin'?"

"I am well," Hedon confirmed, surprised how quickly things had settled.

The old healer sighed. "I'mma feed Old Granny then."

"Who?"

"What _now_?" Bhrafmor hissed.

"Yea _now_ ," the old Orc huffed. "Best time as any. Rukhash can take care'a the prisoner well enough."

Bhrafmor stood with her. "I'll help, 'en."

Grazad rolled her eyes and sauntered off. "Do what you like," she groused. Bhrafmor followed after her.

Hedon found himself suddenly alone with three Orcs he didn't know. They seemed more engrossed with their injured party that him, so Hedon quietly drank his tea and did his best to give them what privacy he could. He didn't think he could stand and get back into Grazad's den on his own without falling over.

From nowhere, a green eyed goblin appeared in front of him. He glanced over the Orcs standing vigil and then looked at Hedon. "Where's Grazad?" he asked.

"Feeding someone," he said, hoping that he heard the old Orc right.

"You seen a little red-eyed imp around?" he asked.

Dera had been the only imp Hedon had come across since he was here. "I'm afraid not," he said.

The Orc mumbled to himself, "Figgered he was pallin' with Dera."

"They took Dera away when the injured came in," Hedon told him, hoping that was useful information. The Orc seemed very concerned.

"I saw her with the other brats. Ranmor 'as them. Gruk ain't with 'em." He gave Hedon a half hearted wave and began loping towards the main cavern. "Thanks anyway," he said.

Hedon felt badly that he couldn't be more helpful.

* * *

"I ain't never seen Muhrgra so upset," Bhrafmor mumbled as they descended to the lock hole. She was carrying the dried deer meat that would be Old Granny's meal for the day. She had called it a waste when they retrieved it from the store room. Bhrafmor was certainly picking up some of Rukhash's more annoying habits.

"'Course he's upset," Grazad said. "Sapatuk's his daughter. Her an' her sister's all he got. He's fond of his two girls. You know that."

"Yea," she said, sounding sullen.

"Yer mom'd be a wreck if somethin' like that happened ta you," Grazad told her.

"Not my dad, though."

Grazad stopped in her tracks and looked Bhrafmor up and down. She never spoke of Dufkarn as though he were her father. For reasons Grazad never understood, he had kept himself firmly out of that aspect of her life despite being quite close with Nûtgroth.

"That bothers you?" the old Orc asked, surprised.

"Kinda," she admitted.

"Yer probably the most important thing in the world to yer mum."

"I know," she said. "I don't care 'at he's not like _that_. It's just… I'll be sittin' _right there_ , an' he acts like I don't exist unless he's gotta order me about. He knows I'm his."

"And you wish he'd act like it once in a while," Grazad finished for her. Poor kid. Grazad never realized Dufkarn's indifference bothered her so much.

Bhrafmor shrugged half heartedly. "It's stupid," she said.

Grazad wasn't sure she could say that. After all, she was feeding an ancient, mad Orc because the old girl sang her a few songs as a kid. Grazad would give anything for Old Granny to recognize her again. "It ain't stupid," Grazad said, touching her arm.

A high pitched howl echoed through the tunnel and Grazad's blood went cold. That wasn't Old Granny screaming.

It was Gruk.

Swearing, Grazad found some hidden strength, galloping down the tunnel like she hadn't galloped since she was young. She didn't even know if Bhrafmor was following her. Gruk howled again and a tiny part of Grazad's mind felt relief that he was still alive enough to yell so loud. Stupid brat, what was he doing down here?

Bhrafmor had her outpaced by the time they reached the lock hole. Old Granny had Gruk by the leg, and the boy was yowling his head off. She was still close to the bars, though. Bhrafmor reared up on her hind legs, reached through the bars, and raked her narrow claws across the Orc's face. Old Granny roared and released Gruk, grabbing Bhrafmor's arm and twisting as she pulled the girl through the bars up to her shoulder, sinking her teeth in. Bhrafmor screamed.

Gruk managed to scamper through the bars as Grazad reached in, grabbing the white hair on Old Granny's neck and dragging the Orc down. "Let go of her, you _cunt_!" Grazad screamed.

Old Granny let go of Bhrafmor and grabbed Grazad, yanking her arm up and back, using the bars as leverage. Grazad heard her arm snap before a blinding pain nearly had her passing out. A vice like grip was on the skin of her neck, and Grazad slammed into the bars with enough force to knock her down. There was snarling above her as Bhrafmor tried to free her from Old Granny's grasp, but the old bitch wouldn't let go. Grazad felt like her air was running out.

Someone else was roaring. Grazad was aware enough to note that it sounded like Takhbork. There was a jangling of keys, and then a iron clank as the lock was released. Did she drop her keys? No, Grazad remembered, the smith had his own set to everything. Old Granny let her go, making for the open door, but Takhbork had her in both hands before she could escape. He hurled her against the back wall with all of his considerable strength and slammed the door shut before dragging Grazad away from the cage.

He went immediately to Gruk. Bhrafmor turned Grazad on her back, and was patting her cheek. The girl's shoulder was torn up, and blood was oozing down her arm, but she kept patting her cheek saying, "Are you arright?" Grazad too dizzy to answer.

There was a hissing from the back of the cell. Grazad turned her head, feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. She was nearly ready to pass out, but before she did, she saw Old Granny grinning evilly from the back of her cage; her three, yellow teeth red with blood.

She was laughing.

* * *

**Translations**

_Krank_ (Svarstika) male parent; biological father

* * *

BETAed by horseyyay aka Morgoth


	69. Demons

**Splint**

**Chapter 69: Demons**

* * *

This was not the first interrogation Cadoc ever witnessed. When the war was going on, they had occasionally captured a prisoner from a Haradrim or Easterling unit making their way through Ithilien. Some men had a taste for it, for working over a prisoner until they would talk. Cadoc had not been one of them. So, when Dufkarn had their Orc prisoner dragged into the cave they used for skinning and preparing the kills brought in by the hunters, Cadoc hesitated.

Rukhash had followed the rest of the warrior Orcs in without misstep, joined by Botarg, Baan and Hiskut. Cadoc paused at the entrance and Ashplak paused with him.

"I'm thinkin' this ain't ta yer taste," he said.

"Not particularly," Cadoc admitted. "Though I realize we will not have our answers by asking him politely."

"Not likely, though we might get no answers at all. Rukhash said 'e were hurt bad." Ashplak patted his arm. "Can't see how Dufkarn might need ya right now. You could wait outside til we're done."

His _shaûk_ was in there, doing what she needed to do. Cadoc may not have had the taste for it, but he had watched this sort of thing before. He could always step out, if it really started to bother him…

The chief doubled back, and pointed at Cadoc. "You're in here too," he ordered. "You're helping."

Incredulous, Cadoc firmed his stance. "I am _not_ going to torture anyone, not even if you order it."

"Who said nothin' 'bout torture?" the chief growled. "Put up your hood and get your sword out, you're playin' a part."

"What?"

"Just _do it_ ," Dufkarn hissed. "And try ta look mean, if that's even possible."

Cadoc glared. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Close enough," the chief said. "Now _get in here_."

He turned and went back in the cave. Cadoc exchanged a look with Ashplak. "Do as 'e says," the old goblin said, stroking his chin. "I got an idea'a what he plans ta do."

A part of him balked. What could they want that Orc for besides wringing some answers out of him? But they _did_ need to know what Hrat was scheming with this other tribe. The chief's tone demanded his obedience, and for now, Cadoc would not argue him. He would see how Dufkarn planned for this to play out. Anxiously, hesitantly, Cadoc put up his hood and entered the cave.

There were two fires lit near the far wall, but they were small and – Cadoc hoped – mostly to add light. A few skins still hung, drying; various tools used for skinning and sawing bone were hung on the wall; while several dozen bones were strung up by the warriors from past hunts. Cadoc had never lent much thought to this room in the past. It was a work room, where they did their butchering. It took on a suddenly ominous character.

Botarg, Baan and Hiskut were the only members of the Glokong tribe soldiers present. The rest of the room was Gundbarashal warriors. Cadoc could not describe the look on the Orcs' faces, except that it bordered on anticipation. For some reason, Baan caught his attention where he stood next to Hiskut. They exchanged a grim look before Cadoc's focus shifted to Rukhash, where she kneeled by the injured Orc. She was funneling liquid from a flask into his mouth. She just finished as the chief sidled up alongside her. The Orc coughed raggedly and Rukhash propped him up – not gently – on a log stored in the cave for firewood.

"He up yet?" Dufkarn asked.

Much to Cadoc's discomfort, she grinned at the chief. "Soon," she said.

The chief motioned for her to move and she stepped away from the prisoner, clutching the flask to her chest. She looked towards him and whatever mirth bubbled under the surface died. Her smile morphed into a troubled frown.

Dufkarn turned to him. "Pull your sword. Yer gonna ask him the questions, and yer gonna ask 'em like you mean business."

"What should I ask?"

"What they're doin' with Zriizna's crew and what they're plans are. Anything more, and I'll let you know. Let's just see if we get _that_ outta him."

The Orc's eye fluttered. He was dripping with bloody sweat, breathing like he couldn't catch enough air in his lungs. Cadoc wondered – horribly – if this Orc had a family; if he thought whatever move his tribe was making would keep them safe. Cadoc felt empathy stir in him, and he nearly lost his nerve.

His mind went instead to his tiny daughter; to Rukhash, who meant more to him than his honor among Men; to Grazad, who had shown them every kindness; to Takhbork and Fiilmor, who had become dear friends. He thought of little Gruk and the other children, who would pester him for stories out of the book he bought for Rukhash all those months ago at the winter festival; of Muhrgra, who sat now with Shaapatuk and wounded Saraguk; and even of Ashplak, who was a dirty old man, but a comrade in the truest sense. He imagined all of them dead because of this foreign tribe and their bid for land that wasn't theirs, and Cadoc found, not only his nerve, but the anger he needed to play his part.

Cadoc drew his sword.

Their prisoner's eyes opened, bright and unfocused. His gaze darted frantically until he laid eyes on Cadoc, and then true fear seemed to grip him. Cadoc leveled his blade at the Orc's throat and practically growled, "You will tell me what Hrat is planning, or I will kill you in the most horrible way I can think of."

The Orc licked his lips, confused. "Hrat?"

"Your _chief_ ," Cadoc said.

Realization seemed to dawn on him, and he grinned a lucid, bloody grin. "Hrat ain't our chief."

Cadoc faltered and glanced at Dufkarn's concerned face.

"Urzrath's our chief," the Orc continued without prompting.

The Gundbarashal Orcs hissed and began to murmur among themselves. Dufkarn stepped in. He grabbed a pole from along the wall and thrust it into the prisoner Orc's wound. The Orc howled. Cadoc cringed.

When he stopped howling, Dufkarn questioned him. "Since _when_?"

The Orc was panting frantically. "After you beat Hrat them years back. Urzrath challenged 'im an' won." He laughed, focusing on Dufkarn. He propped himself on his elbows and added, "Yer _fucked_."

"We're _Turuk Nur_ with the Kohrdkraun, and we've got yer numbers beat. We know you got Glokong here, and we know all about yer pet _tark_." He spat red in Cadoc's direction. "We know all yer holes well as you do. So go on an' kill me you fuckers, cause you'll be right behind."

Enraged, Dufkarn jabbed the pole back into the Orc's wound. " _When_?" he growled.

The Orc writhed, chuckling wetly as blood poured from his mouth. "Soon enough!"

Without another word, Dufkarn drove the pole into the Orc's skull with enough ferocity to cave in one side, and their prisoner was dead. He tossed the pole furiously against the wall before slamming his fist into the ground with a snarl.

It felt as though the whole room had been struck by a bolt of lightning. The fine hairs on Cadoc's neck began to rise. The full meaning behind the Orc's words escaped him, but many of the Gundbarashal seemed clued in to their significance. They hissed among themselves heatedly.

"Who the fuck is Urzrath?" Botarg asked. Cadoc was wondering the same thing.

"One'a the goblins we tossed in the river when we took the clan back from the uruks," Ashplak explained. "He were one'a their favorites. Done a few girls over real mean."

Botarg frowned. "So this here's personal."

"But why would Zriizna's tribe join with them?" Baan asked.

"Opportunity?" Dufkarn ventured. "Or maybe she'll double cross 'im. Your folk said she was a cunt."

"He was lying," Hiskut stated.

Dufkarn whirled on her. "About _what_?"

"About their numbers," she said coolly. "I was captured and held prisoner for a time among the Kohrdkraun. Their tribe is many, but not remotely so many as to equal the Glokong. Unless _his_ tribe is extremely large – two or three hundred – then their numbers would not match our own."

Ashplak looked thoughtful. "Ain't no fuckin' way there's that many of 'em. They'da tried ta mow us over years ago. Their tribe's probably even smaller'n ours. Why else go for an arrangement like _Turuk Nur_?"

"But," Hiskut added, "there are not enough of us _here_. We are a little more than fifty together. We will need to double that –at least – to ensure we match them."

Cadoc, realizing he still had it drawn, sheathed his sword. This was certainly a dubious turn of events. Still, it was fortunate that they learned what they did from their prisoner. "It seems he was delirious enough to be sloppy."

Botarg leaned off of the wall and stretched. "Or overconfident," she mused. "Either way, we can send fer more warriors. It'll only take a week."

"Or it _all_ were a bloody lie," Gaidurb growled.

"Could this be a ploy?" Cadoc wondered out loud. "To draw more soldiers away from Gijakzi's tribe?"

"One hundred could come here," Hiskut said haughtily, "and there would still be eight times that many back home"

Silence fell on the room. Cadoc felt a small pang of shock. Was their tribe so large? Rukhash hadn't mentioned it to him. He glanced back at his _shaûk_. She shrugged and shook her head, obviously just as surprised by this information as he.

Botarg smacked Hiskut upside the head. "Tell the fucking world, why don't you!" she hissed.

Clutching the back of her skull, the eastern uruk recoiled. "I thought they knew…" A incensed rumbling went up among the Gundbarashal as they eyed their guests dubiously.

" _Shaddap!_ " Dufkarn barked and all went silent. "I knew 'bout their numbers already. They been up there all this time not botherin' us, and that'll go on still." He glanced briefly at Rukhash. "We got shared bloodlines. _We're_ _Turuk Nur_ , so I ain't havin' no bickerin' among us."

"Now," Dufkarn turned towards Botarg. "We need ta send a runner. How that fucker survived gettin' tied an' drowned, I don't know, but Urzrath knows these tunnels inside an' out. We're gonna need enough muscle to take the fight ta them _and_ keep enough back up here in case they try a sneak around. You think Gijakzi'll be up fer that?"

"He said he'd send what we needed," she replied.

"Then you'll see it done?"

Botarg nodded. "I'll send Hiskut," she said, eyeing the uruk woman beside her. "Since she's so keen on strategy an' all."

Hiskut bowed her head politely, contritely. "I would be honored to go, Captain."

"I will go with you," Baan offered.

"You _stay_ ," Botarg hissed. "I'm sending Yammat with 'er. She can keep to the trees and watch from above. You can't."

Baan did not look happy about that, but remained silent. Dufkarn and Botarg sounded as if they were still making plans, but Cadoc had no say in those matters. Feeling as though he was no longer needed, Cadoc made to leave. That interrogation had gone, not well, but better than he had imagined. Considering what they could have done to that prisoner, his death had been mercifully swift. He'd seen worse done to people than having their heads bashed in, but standing beside that Orc's corpse was making him anxious. Rukhash followed him out.

"You was kinda scary there, fer a minute," she said, sounding proud.

Cadoc glanced sidelong at her. "I can't tell if you are teasing me or not."

"I ain't," she replied. "Reminded me'a when we first met."

"I am sure I was quite the terror, wounded as I was."

She huffed. "You might not'a been able ta do much about it, but you had a look on yer face like you'da liked ta kill me."

Cadoc regarded her silently. When he awoke in her cave – it seemed like a lifetime ago at this point – he _had_ wanted to kill her. He had been captured by an Orc, and as far as he had known, his life was forfeit. "That was to cover my fear," he said. "If I knew then what I know now, I would not have been as frightened of you as I was."

"Skerd'a lil' me, were you?" she said, amused.

He thought of her disconcerting smile when the interrogation began. "You underestimate how intimidating you can be," Cadoc told her.

"Really?" She seemed flattered.

"To an injured man that did not know you? Yes, I found you quite intimidating."

In the time they had been here, Cadoc had been privy to an even more domestic side of her than he had when they shared Edda's cottage. She had become a mother, an apprentice, and a teacher. The tender relationship she shared with Grazad and Bhrafmor had softened his image of her even more in his mind. But just moments ago, he was reminded of the chasm between them. Her regard for life and for others was dependant on how much she cared for them personally. There had been no empathy in her for that Orc. It was a jarring reminder.

As they reached the little alcove that contained their and Grazad's den, she paused, touching his arm and urging him to do the same. Muhrgra and Shaapatuk still sat vigil, and Hedon was still outside of Grazad's den, but – considering the general, chattering noise of the main cave – they were out of earshot.

"What's wrong"" she asked quietly. "You look worried 'bout somethin'."

"It is nothing."

"I fuckin' hate when you lie ta me, Cadoc."

He was not sure how to approach this delicately, and thought to simply out and say what he was thinking. "It made me uncomfortable," he admitted, "that you seemed excited by the prospect of seeing that prisoner worked over."

A thoughtful frown marred her features. Cadoc watched as she searched her own mind for something to say. "Ya seemed pretty serious when the questions started," she said finally. "Were you?"

"I do not have it in me to prolong someone's death," Cadoc told her.

"But you _were_ angry," she said. "I could tell."

"I thought of what would happen to the people here if his tribe was to have their way," Cadoc replied. "What they are doing is unnecessarily selfish. They would murder or subjugate everyone here to take this land. Yes," Cadoc admitted, "that makes me angry. I fought a war for a similar reason."

"Well, when someone has it in their head ta fuckin' kill me and the folks I care about, I don't spare 'em much sympathy," Rukhash said. "Makes me happy when they get theirs back. Maybe it's shitty of me, but fuck them."

"You spared Baladnor–"

"That were different," she interjected. "That were complicated. Can't say it didn't feel good ta let 'im know I were the reason he were laid up all those years. Besides," she added, "he gone an done right by me when 'e warned Halbard. It ain't the only reason I spared 'im, but I can't say it didn't influence it. Don't know that I really forgive 'im, but I'unno," she paused, frowning. "I know it's what _you_ would'a wanted me ta do," she added, quietly.

Cadoc was not sure how to reply. To know he had effected her in such a way was humbling. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I understand why you reacted the way you did," he told her. "It was visceral, even a little malicious, but still understandable.

"But you're disappointed," she said unhappily.

"No," Cadoc informed her. "I could never be disappointed in you. But to say it does not make me uneasy when you behave in such a way would be a lie. It…" Cadoc was not sure how to say this genially. He lowered his voice. "It reminds me that you are an Orc."

"Men do the same," she huffed.

"They do," Cadoc agreed. "I have seen it in Men more times than I would care to admit. I have even felt that way myself. Do you know, when Baladnor returned injured from his trek north, I was happy? I hated him for what he stole from me. I felt joy at his suffering _and_ Ingrid's suffering. Because she had left me, I thought she should endure her miserable choice. But that vindictiveness lost me my son, and so, I have done my best to cleave it from my heart."

"I understand why you feel the way you feel," he reiterated. "I would never condemn you or admonish you for it, but I do hope, one day, you might let some of that malice go. You are who you are, Rukhash, and I love who you are, but if you must know, yes, that sort of thing makes me uneasy."

She released a long breath. "Well," she said resignedly, "I asked."

"You did," Cadoc replied. "I do not want this to be an argument."

"Is it?"

"I don't think so," Cadoc admitted.

"Me neither," Rukhash said. "It's just… I gotta kinda wrap my head around it."

"I think I need to do the same," he told her.

Their quiet discussion was broken by a high pitched yowl cut that through the den like a knife. Rukhash and Cadoc exchanged a horrified look. "That was Gruk!" she said. A second yowl followed and they made their way to the source of the commotion. It was coming from the lock hole.

The rest of the tribe was moving with them, any idle conversation being had at the moment firmly dropped. From the corner of her eye, Rukhash realized the warriors were pouring out of the front cave, but she didn't stop to wait for them. There was another roar – Takhbork, this time. Rukhash's stomach did a flip as she followed Ranmor down the winding stairs.

As she followed the _shatroklob_ into the dim cavern, she was horrified to be hit by the strong scent of blood. Bhrafmor's was the most prevalent, then Gruk's. But it was Grazad unconscious on the ground that sent her heart racing. She kneeled alongside Bhrafmor, who kept patting Grazad's cheek.

"When'd she pass out?" Rukhash asked.

"Just now," Bhrafmor replied. "Damn bitch broke 'er arm an' choked 'er out. I tried ta get 'er off, Rukhash, but she's so fuckin' _strong_."

"Your arm!" Ranmor exclaimed, rushing to her daughter's side.

She brushed her mother off. "It looks worse'n it is, mum. Get back! Grazad needs air."

In the cell, the ancient Orcess was hissing with laughter. Rukhash took one look at her smug face and saw red. She charged the bars, clashing against them. Where was that damn key? "I'm gonna tear your fucking _lungs_ out, you _bitch_!" she roared.

Someone gripped her arms. She turned to face Cadoc's firm expression. He drew her gently away from the cage saying, "Grazad needs you, and Gruk as well. There is time yet for _that_ , Rukhash."

She glanced over his shoulder to the far end of the hole, where Takhbork cradled Gruk. The boy's whines were thin and pitiful, his tiny face covered in fat tears. "Bring 'im here, Takhbork," she said, kneeling.

The smith approached and laid his son in her arms. She made a quick assessment of his wound, prodding the bite marks on his thigh gently, and was relieved to note that it did not seem life threatening. "Bring 'im upstairs," she said. "He'll be arright. I just gotta clean 'im up."

As Takhbork rushed his son out, the crowd that had gathered parted for him. Rukhash heard Fiilmor exclaim loudly, then her voice drifted off. As Rukhash moved to examine Grazad, the chief made his way inside. Dufkarn remained silent while she lifted Grazad's eyelids to check her pupils – they dilated, thank goodness – and cradled her ruined arm. It was a bad break, almost as bad as Cadoc's leg had been. Rukhash had patched up Cadoc with no lasting trouble besides a dull ache he complained about when the weather was particularly bad. But Grazad was old. This could cripple her.

She looked up at Cadoc, who stood silently behind her. She could tell by his face that he realized the gravity of this injury. "Can you get her back to 'er den without jostling 'er too much?"

"Easily," he confirmed, bending to gently scoop Grazad into his arms. As he stood, cradling the old Orc, Rukhash was startled by how small she looked, fragile. Rukhash had never thought of Grazad as fragile before. Cadoc took her up with Bhrafmor right behind him. The girl was worrying her lip, seemingly unaffected by the bite taken out of her shoulder.

Rukhash made to follow, but before she did, she turned to Dufkarn. "Don't you dare kill that bitch without me," she said.

Grimly, resolutely, he nodded. "Do what needs doin'," he said. "She'll be here for ya when yer done."

Laughter still hissed from the back of the cell, but Rukhash did not turn to look at Old Granny. She had work to do, and she knew, the moment she laid eyes on that murderous Orc, she would want to kill her.

* * *

Upon arrival, all of the visiting Glokong tribe had been warned against going down into the Gundbarashal lock hole because they were harboring a mad Orc; an old member of the clan. So, to an extent, Hiskut was not surprised the elder healer was attacked. She had been the primary caretaker of that Orc. It was probably only a matter of time before her charge turned on her. It would be a disadvantage when the wounded started coming in – Grazad seemed very knowledgable – but there were still two good healers in this tribe.

Hiskut's main thoughts were not with Grazad, though. She knew her only in passing and by the praise of her tribe mates. She was thinking of the four day trek north, which she would be making well into the rainy season. They had brought boats with them, but she was still plotting the best course in her head. Time was not on their side. An attack could come at any moment. She needed to reach home and muster the soldiers needed as quickly as possible so she could return. Hiskut did not want Baan to go into battle without her at his back.

It was not that he was a poor soldier. Baan was, in fact, an excellent soldier. His fighting prowess was what drew her to him in the first place. No, Hiskut had every confidence that Baan could defend himself, but a _shaûk_ should be by the side of their partner in a fight. Baan may not have felt comfortable calling her thus, but in her mind and heart, there was no one she cared for more. Not even her father, and Ishî had taken her under his wing when she was young and alone.

There was something that bound them, something that went beyond words. She could think of no other reason she stayed by his side, swallowing her pride enough to accept the title as wife instead of _shaûk_. Hiskut liked Baan's first wife, Amita. She was a warm and attractive woman. Hiskut enjoyed sharing a bed with her. But her heart did not sing for Amita as it did for Baan. When she was with him she felt like she could fly. She could not even find anger for him when he rejected her offer to be _shaûk_. As baffling as the concept was, he felt equal affection for both his wives, in the same way he felt equal affection for his children, and could not abandon one for the other. Hiskut had respected his honesty, though her understanding of how men loved still eluded her.

"You ready?" Botarg was at the mouth of the small cave that the Gundbarashal had supplied as a den. It was barely that, completely open on one side, so that privacy was marginal at best. She and Baan had made it work thus far, but the rowdy hoots on the few nights they were intimate did annoy her. Hiskut had become accustomed to the seclusion of her three room house back home.

She cinched her rucksack and hauled it on her back. Her weapons were already fastened at her side. "I am," she replied, lowering her gaze. She was still annoyed with herself for speaking so freely earlier.

"You get that this here's a punishment, yea?" Botarg said in her customary, blunt fashion.

"I do."

"Good," the uruk captain turned to leave. "C'mon I'll walk you and Yammat out."

As she approached the main exit, Hiskut was pleased to see Baan and Ishî silhouetted against the grey sky. Her father clasped her shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on yer tiny husband," he said somberly. "You take care'a you, little girl."

"Of course, father."

He turned to Yammat at her side. "Don't die, you," he said with a clever grin. "I'll miss my best card partner."

" _Akh_ , Baan plays fer shit," she laughed, elbowing his thigh as she passed into the early morning rain.

"I do not understand why I am the rear of your jokes again," Baan said sullenly.

Hiskut kissed his cheek. "It is because you make it very easy for them."

He ran his thumb along her cheek, his dark eyes filled with warm affection, and Hiskut's heart swelled. "Please be safe," he told her. "And be wary. There is no telling where our enemies have eyes."

"It will be a familiar feeling," she said, thinking of the days when she was clad in the armor of Mordor, marching through the west. "Be wary in turn," she added. "I will go as the wind, but there are times the wind does not reach the peak."

"Bleedin' Eye," Yammat gasped. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It is an expressi–" Hiskut paused, glaring. "This is a private moment, Yammat!"

"Nothin's private in the rain," Botarg said, glowering. "Git goin' 'fore the day wears on."

Baan kissed her briefly, passionately, and then Hiskut turned and left before he tempted her to waste more time. She floated one of the smaller boats into the clear, cool water and sailed into the forest. Yammat was right above her.

Botarg watched her runners head out, relieved that goodbye was over. Hiskut and Baan were good warriors and their loyalty could be trusted – that was why she chose them to come along on this mission – but they were puke inducing sometimes. Ishî and Baan filed back inside, and Botarg was about ready to do the same when a very distant _thunk_ caught her ear. She headed around the bend to investigate.

She almost walked headlong into the Gundbarashal tribe's queer horse as it grazed in the rain. The mare gave her a look that was way more inquisitive than a horse should give. Botarg swore. "I bloody fergot they had you," she said, sidestepping the animal before continuing on. Several yards from the horse, Botarg discovered what was thunking. Rukhash stood a hefty pace from the tree line, shooting a bow. Botarg nearly laughed out loud as her sister pulled another arrow from her quiver. This was going to be a lark to watch.

Contrary to what Botarg expected to happen, Rukhash drew the arrow in a surprisingly smooth, practiced motion. She took a heartbeat to aim, and then loosed the fletch. Botarg followed the arrow's path as it struck, not a nearby tree, but a trunk three rows into the forest where a small target had been fixed. She hit it dead center. Botarg looked at her sister as if seeing her for the first time. For her part, Rukhash looked bloody furious. She drew another arrow.

"Oi," Botarg called, and Rukhash whirled around, surprised as she approached. "Where the fuck'd you learn how to do that?"

Rukhash lowered her bow. It was a _nice_ bow, sturdily constructed and reinforced for a goblin's arm span. "Taught myself," she said.

"Your joking."

Botarg noticed her stand a little taller. "I _ain't_ ," she huffed. "I had ta learn after my old clan were gone. Needed ta hunt fer myself, an' chasin' down a boar with a knife is the stupidest bloody thing you can do, even if it _is_ one'a dad's knives. Learned that the hard way." She fingered a long tusk on her necklace. Botarg had marveled a little at how her sister's _vrasgirden_ had grown over the years. Rukhash certainly had been busy.

Though, no busier than Botarg had been herself. She had trained hard and fought her fair share of battles to earn her position. She was just...amazed that Rukhash had grown to be a reliable female. Between their mother's protection and her father's coddling, she had been such a spoiled brat. Thirteen years sure did change a person.

"What?" Rukhash snapped, gauging her expression.

"I just didn't think ya had it in ya ta stick to a thing like that," Botarg admitted.

Rukhash looked insulted. "I'm a fuckin _healer_. You know how much _sticking_ that takes? And yer all impressed I can hit a target?"

Botarg felt duly chastised. She supposed her sister's position did take a little more discipline and learning than archery. "Well," she wheedled. "You _are_ a good shot."

Her sister sighed and seemed to deflate. "Thanks," she said, studying her bow.

"You make yer bow too?" Botarg wondered aloud.

Rukhash nodded and, without being prompted, passed her weapon to Botarg. She tested it in her hand. It had a good weight to it without being too heavy. Rukhash used to help her father making weapons in Isengard. She must have taken some good notes when they were making bows. Botarg drew the string and was impressed by the resistance. Rukhash had been working her arms proper to be pulling a bow like this. She passed it back. "It's a good weapon," she said.

Her sister shrugged, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Rain dripped into Botarg's eyes, and she glared up at the offending sky. "What're you doin' practicin' out here in the rain?" she asked. The tribe had a large cavern they used for practice when the weather was inclimate. The Glokong soldiers had been making use of it as well, running drills with their new sister tribe.

"I needed the air," Rukhash replied.

Realizing Rukhash must have come from seeing to the old healer that was hurt, Botarg asked, "How's yer friend doin'?"

"Good as can be expected," Rukhash sighed. "I gave 'er enough draught ta knock 'er out fer a day. She'll be asleep fer a while."

"And that arm?"

"We'll see what we'll see. I done all I know ta do fer it."

"You gonna kill that old bitch they keep in the cellar? I heard Dufkarn's keepin; 'er alive fer ya."

A troubled frown marred her sister's face. "Ain't sure."

That was an unexpected admission. "That cunt near killed yer pal, an' you ain't sure whether yer gonna pay it back? The fuck is wrong with you? You should be practicin' that bow on _her_."

Rukhash thrust the arrow she was holding into the ground. "I know!" she said. "But… I _don't_ know. The old beast fuckin' deserves it. We shoulda never let 'er live in the first place. I been wanted ta bash her skull in 'till it was wet meat on my knuckles."

"So," Botarg huffed, "what's _stopping you_?"

Her reply was so low, the rain almost drowned her out. "It's 'cause'a Cadoc," she said.

"Yer _tark_?"

Rukhash glared. "My _shaûk_."

"So," Botarg replied uncertainly, "he _doesn't_ want you to kill her?"

"Fuck, I'm sure he wants 'er dead like everyone else," Rukhash said. "But not the way _I_ want it done."

"Yer givin' me a headache, Rat." And she was. Botarg wasn't even sure what her sister was talking about anymore. " _Shaûk_ 're suppose ta have each other's back. That don't mean he gets ta tell you what ta do."

"He didn't," Rukhash said, throwing up her hands. "That's what makes it worse. I could walk down in that lock hole and tear that cunt limb from limb and he wouldn't blame me. He'd probably even say somethin' gentle an' reassurin', but I _know_ , deep down, it would eat at 'im, knowin' what I done."

"So he ain't never killed no one?"

"Course he's killed people," Rukhash huffed. "But not like that."

"There's a difference?"

"To _him_ there is," Rukhash said, sounding exasperated. "Cadoc thinks, like, you shouldn't enjoy killin' folks. But, fuck all, I _do_ like it when they have it comin'. I like it and it makes 'im sad an' I don't wanna make 'im sad. He already gave up so much'a himself ta come here an' be with me."

Having a _tark_ for a _shaûk_ must be exhausting. Botarg was getting exhausted by this conversation alone. She regarded her baby sister thoughtfully. "You want some advice, or you wanna shoot more?"

Rukhash looked at her hopefully. "You got advice?"

Laying a heavy hand on her sister's shoulder, Botarg said, "You wanna off this cunt, then off 'er, but don't make a big procession outta it. Take 'er head and be done with it. You'll get ta kill 'er and yer Man won't get 'imself in a twist cause you ripped 'er ta shreds." Honestly, it seemed so obvious to Botarg. She didn't understand why her sister was agonizing over it so much.

"But I'm still gonna enjoy it," Rukhash said unhappily.

Botarg scoffed. "So what? Listen, I get that yer fond'a yer fella, but he don't get ta tell ya how ta feel–"

"But he don't…"

"He don't get ta _guilt_ ya into it either, even if he ain't doin it on purpose," Botarg added, annoyed to be interrupted. "You're beatin' yerself up over somethin' you ain't even done. Considerin' how worked up you are 'bout this, do you really think you'll enjoy killin' that bitch? It'll probably make ya feel like shit."

Her sister's face lit with what only could be described as a revelation. "Yer right," she said, sounding awed. "I didn't think'a it like 'at afore."

Before Botarg could react, her sister embraced her around the middle. "Thanks, sis!" she said, sounding happier. "I didn't realize I needed another ear on this."

Wriggling out of her grip, Botarg muttered uncomfortably, "Yea, don't bleedin' mention it."

They stood for a moment in the rain, staring at one another. There really wasn't much more they could say. Small talk had never been a strength for Botarg. "I'll see ya in there then, Rat," she said, turning to leave.

"Botarg," Rukhash called after her, and she turned. "Can you… _not_ call me 'Rat'? I never liked 'at nickname."

"Really?" Botarg thought back to when they were younger. Rukhash had never been ruffled by that moniker before. "You seemed fine with it as a brat."

"Didn't really have a choice in the matter, did I? Figgered gettin' pissed would just make more folks interested in usin' it."

"Guess it would've," Botarg conceded. "Didn't mean no harm by by it, Rukhash." She offered her sister a small smile. "I always thought it were kinda cute."

* * *

A day had settled the den into their old routines, but Old Granny was still alive. As a favor to Rukhash, Dufkarn hadn't dealt with her yet, but he was tired of waiting. The ancient Orc felt like a loose end, and he didn't want to have her to worry about when the fighting started up.

Cadoc's brother had moved into his hole with him, and Rukhash was staying in Grazad's den, as she did when she first arrived. Aside from a few jaunts outside, she had been keeping a sharp vigil on the old healer. When he sought her out, Dufkarn found her nursing Dera while the Grazad slept.

Her eyes were dark and puffy. The chief wondered if she had slept at all since the attack. "You look like shit," he told her.

"Been hard ta get any shut eye," Rukhash said.

Dufkarn glanced over where Grazad lay, peacefully asleep. Her bony chest rose and fell steadily. She was covered by a blanket, but Rukhash had stripped much of her clothes to see to her injuries. Grazad looked old. Granted, she _was_ old, but she seemed downright ancient now; withered by time. He wondered how her arm would heal.

"How's she doin'?" Dufkarn asked.

"I been keepin' her under," Rukhash said. "She needs the rest. That arm's gonna hurt somethin' awful when she wakes up."

"What about Takhbork's lad and Bhrafmor?"

They'll be arright," Rukhash confirmed, shifting a sleepy Dera onto her shoulder. "I don't think that old bitch were after them."

That was a curious assessment. "Whaddya mean?"

"Old Granny's claws can't do much harm," she said. "We saw ta that. But she's fuckin' strong. She coulda tore Gruk ta pieces if she wanted. She didn't. I think she were usin' him as bait ta get Grazad down there. He'n Bhrafmor just had a few bites ta tend. I'm keepin' an eye on their wounds, 'cause fuck knows that old cunt's mouth is filthy, but she could'a done loads worse. When she took hold'a Grazad, she wasn't lettin' go."

"She planned on killin' 'er ahead'a time."

"That's what I think," Rukhash said. "She either don't realize Grazad were the only thing keepin' 'er alive, or she don't care. That bitch's heart's blackest I ever seen."

Dufkarn took a deep breath. "So," he said, "you wanna do this?"

Rukhash rubbed Dera's back, her expression thoughtful. " _Nar_ ," she replied. "Think it's best ya off 'er without me."

That was not the response Dufkarn had expected. "I thought you wanted a go at 'er."

"I did," she said slowly, "but Grazad probably wouldn't want that. She'd probably want 'er done quick." Rukhash didn't sound very sure about her answer.

"Really?" Dufkarn asked, incredulous. "'Cause if some bitch I stuck my neck out fer went an' tried ta off me, I'd be thinkin'a the worst ways ta do 'er in."

She looked suddenly uneasy. "You gonna come down on Grazad fer this?"

Honestly, he hadn't meant it like _that_ , but he supposed he could see where she might misconstrue his meaning. "She been come down on already," Dufkarn huffed. "I meant if I were in her place."

"Oh," she said, relieved, and turned away. Rukhash didn't reply immediately and Dufkarn wondered what was going through her head. She had an intense expression. "I think… I think it's better I stay with Grazad," she said. "You do what you gotta."

"You sure?"

She nodded and Dufkarn wanted to slap her. "Wish you let me know that yesterday."

"I were mad yesterday."

Shaking his head, the chief left her to her daughter and her patient. As headed to the lock hole, Dufkarn wondered what made Rukhash lose her nerve. She never seemed like the timid sort to him. Maybe she didn't want Grazad to hate her when she woke up. The old healer was abnormally attached to that murderous Orc in the basement. Maybe she _would_ be upset if she found out Rukhash was the one who killed Old Granny.

Well, this was chief's business anyhow. Grazad couldn't possibly expect him to let that bitch live after what she'd done. The whole tribe would have thought he was out of his mind. Ashplak was down there already, waiting. "Where's Rukhash?" he asked.

"Sittin' this out," Dufkarn told him. "Probably don't want Grazad mad at 'er fer offin' 'er pet."

Old Granny was shuffling along the back of her cell, eyeing them warily. "Well," Ashplak said with a toothy grin, "more fer us."

* * *

When she caught sight of Ashplak with a bloodied, furry body draped over his shoulder, Rukhash couldn't help the little thrill of approval she felt. Still, she _was_ glad she hadn't helped with it. The guilt would have crushed her. The conversation she'd had with Cadoc the night prior had her second guessing her own feelings. It was frustrating, trying to understand his mindset. How could he bring a blade down on an enemy's neck and not feel _good_ about it? How could he be such an accomplished warrior and not relish battle? That way of thinking went beyond his inherent compassion – which Rukhash actually found endearing most of the time – it rose to realms of cognition that she could not grasp. Sometimes he baffled her utterly.

Which did not mean she felt nothing at his words. Her guilt did not come from understanding how Cadoc felt, but because her actions would bring him sorrow on some level. That was something she could not bear, not even in the face of justifiable revenge. The thrill of vengeance was fleeting, coloring Cadoc's opinion of her would harm what they shared for much longer; and what they shared was precious to her.

Rukhash was relieved when Bhrafmor appeared to make an inquiry on Grazad's health. She had saved Rukhash from another string of troubling meditations. "She's doin' arright," Rukhash confirmed. Noting the fresh bandage on Bhrafmor's arm, she added, "You lookin' after you?"

Bhrafmor rotated her shoulder. "It feels good," she said. "Just cleaned it out, an' it don't got no foul smell. Gruk either. Saw ta him afore comin' here."

"Thanks," Rukhash said.

"Yea, yea," Bhrafmor batted the air. "You see they done in that cunt?"

"I did," Rukhash replied.

"You didn't want in on it?"

Rukhash raised her brow. "Did _you_?"

"I'm just happy she's dead," Bhrafmor said uneasily. "Really weren't keen on lookin' at that ugly face again."

"Well," Rukhash said, "me neither."

Bhrafmor regarded her skeptically, but said nothing. Instead, she took a seat alongside her. Rukhash had been crushing some herbs they'd dried, trying to keep her hands busy while her mind wandered. Bhrafmor took a stalk to help. "You think she'll be pissed," she asked, looking at Grazad, "when she wakes up and finds out they offed Old Granny?"

"Dunno," Rukhash admitted. "She were part'a Grazad's old tribe. Think she mighta looked on 'er as family, so it might make 'er sad. But maybe not. The bitch did try and kill 'er."

Grunting, Bhrafmor answered, "Well, it's not like she ain't got no family here."

That was a strange thing to say. "Oh?" Rukhash mused.

"Well, yea," the girl huffed, as if it were obvious. "You an' Cadoc an' Dera…" she paused, shyly adding, "an' me."

Smiling, Rukhash resumed crushing leaves. "I guess yer right," she said.

The two, young healers of the Gundbarashal tribe sat in vigil, waiting for their mentor to wake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UnBETAed


	70. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's short. After all that waiting, this should be loads longer, and maybe the next chapter will be, but I just wanted this posted. It is unBETAed, which means I may go back to fix grammar/spelling/word choice, but the actual events aren't changing.

**Splint**

**Chapter 70: Old Friends**

* * *

 

The pain only lasted a moment before there was nothing but cold. It creeped through her bones and sinew, into her muscles and guts, until her whole body was numb with it. A blackness engulfed her. She existed in that blackness for what seemed like years, centuries, before a pin of light pierced through; a bright star in the distant dark.

A part of her recoiled from that light, but another part – that small, flickering spark – was inexplicably drawn towards it. She felt herself pulled along against her will towards the star. Soon, forms took shape; jagged rocks and smooth stones and a large sea melted out of the nothing. Now, she stood on a shore, eternal in its scope. It stretched out beyond the horizon. Along the shore, she could make out the vague form of shades sitting on the rocks, oblivious of her arrival. Their attention was fixed on the distant star, now not a small pin of light, but a satellite as large as the sun.

They may have been Orcs once, those shades, but now they were silent servants of that light, basking in its hideousness. Some shades had sparks, small but strong; while others' sparks had become bright lights of their own. They seemed nearly ready to cross the sea and join the star.

The star called to her, not in one of the many names she had earned over the years - Old Granny or Rukhash or _Urko_ \- but the wordless name bestowed upon her by her dam. It was so startling to hear those syllables again after so many centuries, she almost did not notice her feet were walking her towards the shore.

Snarling, she planted her feet and glared at the light. _Deceived!_ This was not her master. She turned her back to the light, and though her spark threatened to drag her backwards, and every step felt as though she moved through mud, she forced her way up the smooth stones towards the jagged rocks and away from the shore. The soft utterances of the star faded to nothing.

There was no land past those rocks. Where the shore ended a great Void rose to meet it. Though the shore basked in a peaceful quiet, the Void roared where it crashed against the land, as though it threatened to swallow anything in its path. Its roar was not the roar of wind or thunder or waves against the shore, but an endless scream of rage; as though hundreds of thousands of millions of voices dared to defy the light that held them back.

She recognized that rage. It was the rage that gave her life, the rage that drove her through the slow march of centuries. With hateful joy, she stepped towards the Void. The spark within her withered, and she felt her purpose for being rekindled. She was a tool of destruction, a means of undoing. One day she would be called upon for a final battle, a great War to end Creation. She would not stop to wait upon this shore. She would not turn her back on her Master. She would step into the Void and join him.

And she did.

* * *

There was something gnawing at his forehead. Drifting hazily from a deep sleep, Hedon noticed a gentle prick of tiny claws on his cheek and in his hair as a toothless mouth gummed and drooled over the side of his face. Cadoc's daughter had attached herself to his head like a half Orc sucker fish. She was certainly adept at freeing herself from her sleeping basket.

With a grunt, Hedon lifted her to sit on his chest. She cooed, delighted by this new vantage point. Leaning forward, she buried her little hands into his beard and rustled them about with a cheerful _ah!_.

"It is not as impressive as your father's," Hedon told her.

"Done freed 'erself again?" Rukhash grumbled and rolled into a sitting position. The first two nights of the older healer's injuries, she had remained with Grazad in her cave to watch over her, but last night, Cadoc's wife slipped next to her husband in the early hours before evening. Cadoc snored quietly, oblivious, but Hedon had woken briefly to her intrusion.

Despite the fact that he had shared tighter quarters with fellow rangers, this felt more like sharing his comrade's bedroom. Then an Orc hacked up half a lung somewhere in the main den, Dera grumbled in her sleep, someone fell into a bout of laughter in a distant cave, and Hedon realized that there was no, true privacy in an Orc lair. It was the same, communal living as the Rangers' barracks, which Hedon found obtrusive most of the time he was there. He would have gone mad living in a place like this.

However, these were not completely unfamiliar circumstances. He had lived under conditions just as communal – and far more noisome – following his father. So, when Rukhash rolled over and fell asleep, Hedon had done the same. Best to do as the locals while he was here. Unlike Cadoc, his stay was not permanent.

And he was glad Rukhash was here now that Dera had great fistfuls of his beard in her hands, pulling his chin down with eye watering strength. Without a word, the Orc unsnarled her daughter's fingers and pulled her close, nestling the babe between Cadoc and herself. Dera happily nuzzled against her father's arm, cleaved close and fell back asleep.

Rukhash gave the few feet between them a knowing look. "You sleep arright?" she whispered.

Hedon nodded. He had slept quite well, actually, but now that he was awake, his body was making him aware of some uncomfortable necessities. Cadoc and Rukhash were blocking the small entryway; a safeguard against their daughter's wanderlust. With an uncomfortable cough, Hedon motioned towards the opening. "I need to get past you two," he said.

Rukhash's face lit with realization and she nudged Cadoc. "Move so Hedon can get through," she ordered. Cadoc, eyes still closed, sat up halfway and sidled towards the back of the cave, dragging a sleeping Dera with him. He laid back down and fell immediately asleep again.

Rukhash rolled her eyes as she switched places with Hedon. "He sleeps like a bleedin' rock."

Already aware of Cadoc's bizarre sleeping habits, Hedon shimmied out the entranceway and crawled through the narrow "living room" of their den – where he snatched the lantern from the wall – into the main cave. He stood and stretched, feeling the best he had since his arrival. His strength had been returning in spades over the past few days. Today he felt just like himself minus a much needed bath.

The Orcs did not keep chamber pots in their personal dens. Their holes were too small to accommodate the stink. Instead, there were several, out-of-the-way nooks in the main cave used to house such facilities. Cadoc had directed him towards them during a brief tour of the immediate cavern. To Hedon's surprise, they were well maintained.

Thankfully, no one was about to share his morning constitutional. As he squatted in quiet contemplation, Hedon had to admit that he was amazed by the level of organization here. This tribe was coordinated right down to who looked after the children and cleaned up the piss pots. From his long conversations with Cadoc, there seemed to be a social order and level of etiquette here that rivaled Gondor courts. There were areas Orcs of lower status could not enter unless given expressed consent – like the chief's rock – and a chain of command that required vast knowledge of subtle political alliances to navigate. They even had their own version of Hospitality, extending their caves and their food supply to a visiting tribe's warriors. At a glance their caves seemed as fetid and foul and anarchic as any tale told of Orcs would dare describe, and yet there was a system in that chaos, a level of social sophistication that he would never have expected.

To say that his stay thus far had been bizarre was a perfect understatement, and he had barely been among these Orcs a week. Hedon wasn't sure if it was because he had never seen a settled den of them, or if these were a particularly friendly sort of Orc, but he could not recall a group so affable and domestic. His memories of his father's Orcish associates were muddied by time, but he was very sure they did not behave like this. As well as he was feeling now, as much as he wished to return to his wife for the winter, Hedon could not deny a real curiosity about these settled Orcs, and idly wondered what Lord Faramir would think of all this.

Was it Cadoc's influence? He had only been with them since June. There was no way he could have impacted them so heavily in just six months. Besides, he was one Man among a multitude of Orcs. How could he have that manner of impression in such a short amount of time?

If anything, Hedon thought the Orcs were having more of an impact on _Cadoc_. There seemed to be an accent at the back of his speech pattern, subtle, but still _there_ and strange to hear in the voice of his soft spoken friend. The close quarters seemed to have no affect upon him, though Cadoc had always fared better in the barracks than Hedon. Strangest was his manner among the half naked females, which was almost nonplussed, as if he didn't see them. Hedon had known Cadoc long enough to be accustomed to his conservative morals when it came to the opposite sex, and sex in general. For those scruples to suddenly vanish was strange to witness. Then again, the fact that they were Orc women might have lessened his embarrassment. Hedon really wasn't sure how to judge the changes in his friend or guess what may have cause them.

After seeing to himself, Hedon retrieved the large water jug Rukhash and Cadoc kept in their foreroom and made his way to the back of the den towards the underground river the tribe used for water, thinking to make himself a good guest. Once he had his legs back, Cadoc had shown him this route, careful to point out the twists and turns of the tunnel so Hedon would not lose himself in the labyrinth. The guest cave was located on the far side of the den, so Hedon was sure he could avoid any of the foreign Orcs that may be less disposed towards him than Cadoc's tribe. The few Orcs awake mainly ignored him, though some of the smaller children milling about gave him a curious look.

Several dozen meters into the tunnel, after a few false turns that led to nothing, Hedon was very sure he was on the path that led to the river. Someone rudely cleared their throat and he started, surprised to find Ashplak suddenly at his side, resting silently on his knuckles as if in mid-gait, an amused look on his face. Hedon hadn't even noticed the old beast saunter up alongside him, and wondered how long he had been followed.

"I beg your pardon," Hedon said uneasily, not sure if he had broken some unspoken rule Cadoc forgot to mention. "Is it alright that I go this way?"

A strange smile lit the goblin's face, revealing his disconcerting set of lower fangs. "It's fine fer you ta go any way down 'ere," he said, "but that way'll lead ya to a dead end."

Realizing he had come to a three-way fork in the tunnel, Hedon mentally checked Cadoc's directions. He _had_ said to head right here, hadn't he? But then, Hedon had already doubled back a few times when he thought he was heading down a passage that was no passage at all, but a deep crevice in the wall.

"I believe I am a little turned around," Hedon admitted.

With a bark that sounded like a laugh, Ashplak motioned for him to follow, so he did. Hedon had not spoken to Ashplak since his first night among Cadoc's tribe, and wasn't sure what to think of the old goblin now. This Orc had known his father before Hedon was a thought. Despite himself, there were questions on his mind that Ashplak might be able to answer, but none of those questions seemed capable of passing his lips. Instead, they walked for several minutes in an awkward not-companionable but not-uncomfortable silence before the goblin said, "We near lost Cadoc down 'ere at the start of 'is stay. Yer lucky that old bitch is dead, or she'd be down 'ere tryin' ta do you like she tried ta do him."

"You mean 'Old Granny'?" Cadoc had briefly told Hedon of the ancient Orc that attempted to kill him when Grazad was injured and the chief had called for the creature's death.

"I do. Dufkarn's a soft touch, lettin' Grazad keep 'er long as 'e did, but he always had a gentle spot fer the old girl. It'sa shame she's payin' fer it now. Here," Ashplak motioned towards the mouth of a wide cave, eyeing the vessel in Hedon's possession with bemused amusement. "That's where ya want ta be. Don't know what's with you _tarks_ wakin' up early ta fetch water. Queer _tark_ habit, I'd say."

Hedon could hear the rushing river in the cave. He had no idea how he would find his way back once Ashplak left him, but couldn't bring himself to request the goblin's assistance.

"I'll stick around ta see ya back," the Orc said, as if sensing his unwillingness to ask. "Seems the least I can do fer Crazy Eye's lad."

With a full jug, Hedon found himself following Ashplak yet again, twisting through dark and darker caverns. He wondered how Cadoc could find anything down here. All around him, the lantern cast black shadows against the wall. Every turn looked the same, every nook and cranny seemed as jagged as the last. It was startling when they finally came to the den. They passed from the eerily illuminated darkness of the tunnels to warm, red firelight in the span of a breath.

More Orcs were about now, but the caves still seemed sparsely populated compared to the crowd that had gathered for supper the night before. Cadoc had spared him much of that ordeal, bringing food to his own den for them to share, but the swell of Orcs was impossible to overlook. There was a fair number of them here, easily near one hundred, not including their guests. Compared to the Mordor armies, it was nothing, but there were more Orcs here than Hedon had seen gathered in one place since.

Much to Hedon's discomfort, Ashplak followed him back to Cadoc's den. Rukhash was sitting on the porch, nursing Dera and speaking in low tones to a female goblin at her side. A little imp was in the female's lap, and Rukhash touched its tiny shoulder, inspecting something Hedon could not make out. As he approached, Cadoc's wife glanced up and smiled at him, motioning towards the water jug.

"Figgered that's where ya went," she said. She glanced past him. "Saw that 'e stayed outta trouble, old lad?"

"Just makin' sure no one had a go at eatin' 'im, little mother," Ashplak replied, humor in his gravelly voice. Hedon wasn't sure he found that joke very funny.

Cadoc was nowhere in sight. Rukhash answered his question before he could open his mouth to ask. "Dufkarn already tapped the warriors fer trainin' in the lower cave," she said. "Cadoc's down there with 'em."

"I see," Hedon said quietly, unsure if his feelings should be hurt. He had offered to fight alongside his friend when this tribe went to battle, but Cadoc wouldn't hear of it. It seemed unwise to press the issue, but the looming altercation weighed heavily on his mind. He had fought alongside Cadoc since his youth. It would be strange not to fight with him in this struggle.

With a sympathetic look, Rukhash patted the place beside her. "Come have a sit and some breakfast. Fiil roasted up some fish 'er _shaûk_ snagged 'er."

Hedon reluctantly obliged her, setting the jug of water just inside their den and sitting, not beside, but across from her on the stone ledge. The goblin female passed him a small, blackened trout speared on a thin stick. "I'm Fiilmor, by the way," she said.

Hedon accepted his meal half heartedly. "Hedon," he replied.

Ashplak plopped down alongside him with a loud grunt. "None fer me?" he groused.

"Shouldn't you be with the warriors, trainin'?" Fiilmor said, giving him a suspicious look.

The old goblin chuckled humorlessly. "I done seen enough battle in my day," Ashplak said. "Don't need ta run no drills ta know what I'm about. I know my part."

"Yer always welcome at our hearth, old lad," Rukhash told him and, reaching into a basket behind her, she tossed a raw fish at his head. Snatching it mid air, Ashplak took a wet, messy bite and grinned, chewing loudly.

Surrounded by Orcs, and feeling melancholy from his recent musings, Hedon ate quietly while the three of them talked. Ashplak leaned over, inquiring as to the health of the imp dozing in Fiilmor's lap.

"Another day'n he'll be hoppin' around the upper dens with the rest'a the sprogs," Rukhash informed.

"That bitch took a good chunk out of 'im," Fiilmor said as she stroked the little imp's tuft of hair, "but he's my tough little mite. He'll pull through."

Realizing this small Orc was one of Old Granny's victims, Hedon thoughts went to his former roommate. "And how is your mentor?"

Rukhash frowned. "Bhrafmor's lookin' after 'er now," Rukhash said. "She's still sleepin'. The potion I used on 'er should be worn off by mornin'. Then, we'll see what we'll see."

"Wha'dya you think you might see?" Ashplak asked, a touch of concern in his tone.

Rukhash switched Dera to the other breast before answering. "I ain't sure," she admitted. "It's too early ta tell how 'er arm'll heal, but however it'll heal, it's gonna take awhile. _Sharogil_ don't always work so good on old gits like 'er."

"You should be down there with the rest'a them warriors," Ashplak said.

"I know."

Feeling out of the loop, Hedon noted Fiilmor's worried expression and felt a touch of worry himself. "Why would you need to be training for battle?"

"Even if Grazad weren't banged up, it makes the most sense fer me ta tag along with our soldiers," she explained. "There's a few'a them what got some medic training, but I'm the only one what could fix up someone hurt real bad. The Ranmatûrz den's two days off. Someone could die what didn't have ta, gettin' dragged all the way back 'ere."

"Does Cadoc know you are going along?"

"Dufkarn told 'im 'bout it already," Ashplak cut in, and Rukhash looked somewhat relieved.

"We ain't had much time ta talk since Grazad…"

The old goblin waved her off, and turned towards Hedon. "'Fore you go'n worry 'bout yer brother's girl, you should know no one's more protected'n a healer on the field. She'll be back from the front line with her own guard." He turned towards Fiilmor. "So you get that look off yer face, too. Ain't like we're marchin' yer friend off to a funeral. 'Sides, you ever seen Rukhash draw a bow? This bitch could hit a field mouse between the eyes a hundred paces off."

Rukhash gave him an affectionate look. "'At's a nice thing fer you ta say, old timer."

" _Skai_ ," he batted the air. "Don't get a big head over it. Yer still a whiny slip'a nothin'."

Her expression hardened. "Fuck you, Ashplak." The old Orc laughed.

There was a commotion at the far end of the den, and Hedon craned his neck to see what it was about. A large contingent of Orcs, dressed for battle, were marching in through the main tunnel. The Orcs seated on Cadoc's porch stood, but did not seem particularly alarmed. In fact, Rukhash broke into a wide smile as one of the Orcs, a broad shouldered goblin, stopped shaking hands with the local tribe and made his way towards them. He was followed by what Hedon thought was an easterling girl, but as they approached, he realized the girl's ears resembled the triangular shape of an Orc, while her boots were cut very much like Rukhash's, so her long thumb-like claw could poke through the side.

The half-Orc girl paused while the goblin climbed the stair to the porch. Ashplak moved out of his way so Rukhash could stoop to embrace him.

"Dad!" she said brightly.

Hedon, startled, gave the goblin another once-over, examining his rough features. He wore a leather helmet, which he removed to reveal a dollop of grey streaked hair on his head. A large, decorative tusk was thrust through his nose and there were more teeth on his sash, though they looked more like a collection of Orc fangs. He was built like any goblin, short and broad shouldered, with wiry, muscled arms and thick calves. Hedon could see very little of Rukhash in this Orc.

The goblin glanced at him briefly before giving Rukhash a curious look. "You switchin' 'em up?"

She smacked his shoulder. "Cadoc's down trainin' with the warriors. This here's his brother, Hedon. He done popped in fer a visit."

"Helluva time fer a visit," the goblin snorted. Reaching out, he tweaked Dera's chin and she squealed happily. "How's my lil' blighter?" he cooed.

"Wanna hold 'er?" Rukhash offered.

The goblin shook his head. "Later. Got someone I want ya ta meet," he said, nodding towards the half Orc girl still standing at the foot of the stair.

Hedon was surprised when Rukhash passed Dera off to him. "You spend some time with yer uncle Hedon," she said, smiling. Touching his shoulder, she turned and headed after her father.

Dera blinked at him with wide, grey eye, grinned toothlessly and dug her tiny hands into his beard. "You are much like Cadry at this size," Hedon observed. Ashplak and Fiilmor had sautered off without a word of goodbye, and he wondered what that was about. He could not shake the thought that Rukhash's father had just snubbed him.

A part of her wanted to scold her father for his rudeness, but Rukhash knew that would be as pointless as swearing at the wall. Besides, she was curious about this _baalak_ girl, and wondered why her father wanted them to meet.

"This is Amani," he said, gesturing towards the girl. Amani bowed her head briefly in a respectful hello. "She's Iza's granddaughter," he continued, "and a fine healer in 'er own right. Figured, with all the folks here, you'd need another hand."

"I got Bhrafmor," Rukhash said, unsure if she should feel insulted on the younger Orcess's behalf. Amani did not look much older than Bhrafmor herself.

"She's still trainin', ain't she?" Gijakzi huffed. "Amani here's been trained since she were a mite. Knows her herbs and potions in an' out. Iza's got three more girls learnin' under her now, but Amani here's been learnin' the craft the longest. Her granny's too old fer a trek inta battle, but Amani's been on two already. I brought her here ta help."

Rukhash didn't know what to say to that. She had planned on leaving Bhrafmor behind to look after Grazad and the breeding girls and see to any injuries that may spring up back home in her absence. There was also no telling how Bhrafmor would do with the pressures of an altercation all around her. She was fair enough in close quarters with a knife, but didn't have much fighting skill beyond that. A fair number of soldiers would be marching out, and Rukhash knew that another pair of hands wouldn't be the worst thing, but Amani looked awfully young and sweet to be on a march.

"You could drill me if ya like," the girl offered. Her voice was soft and mannish in its timbre, but her spine straightened and her green eyes hardened with a challenge. "I know my business good as any healer what been doin' it fer years."

A quiz really didn't seem necessary, in Rukhash's opinion. If her father brought her here, then _he_ obviously had great faith in her abilities. Gijakzi's faith was not something he threw away on a whim. "My dad's word's good enough fer me," Rukhash said. She thought Amani looked a little disappointed.

Her father gave them both a hearty slap on the shoulder. "I'll let you two get acquainted," he said. "I got words need havin' with Dufkarn."

"I were surprised ta see ya," Rukhash admitted. "Thought you'd send Uncle Norgash ta lead the group."

Her father barked out a laugh. "You'll have ta wait a bit longer on yer uncle's drinkin' songs," he said. "But someone else's here ya may wanna meet up with, when ya have a minute."

"Who?"

"Oi, Rukhash!"

Looking towards the sound of her name, Rukhash's heart lept into her throat. The last person she expected to see among her father's soldiers was Hodha. She stood speechless for long seconds as the uruk female approached, amazed to see her childhood friend all these years later. Hodha had grown several inches, perhaps, but she was still small as Uruk hai went. The several layers of leather armor and mail she was wearing did little to hide her narrow shoulders and thin waist. As two runts, they had become fast friends, watching each other's back in the dens.

"Yer a warrior now?" Rukhash could not hide the astonishment from her voice. She eyed the quiver and bow slung across Hodha's back.

"Eh," the Uruk shrugged, "not really. More of a hunter, but I wanted along when Gijakzi asked fer volunteers. Ain't like they won't need good archers. Ain't seen you in forever, yea?"

"Yea."

Hodha laughed. "You look just the same," she said.

"You too."

" _Sha_ ," her father cut in, "you birds can catch up later. Best get Amani up ta speed with yer provisions and whatnot. I need Hodha fer a head count. Might as well meet the other soldiers here, too." He eyed the Uruk woman. "C'mon you. Turgrat says the bulk of 'em are in the lower cave practicin'. Ain't like you couldn't use a little'a that. I didn't let you tag along fer a holiday."

Hodha's expression went serious. "Right, chief."

Gijakzi glanced back towards Rukhash's den, where Hedon still sat with Dera. "See 'at my lil' granddaughter don't stink like _tark_ too much afore I get back."

A little warning growl rumbled in her throat. "Dad…"

"He's yers then?" Hodha asked idly, eyeing Hedon up and down. "Big feller."

"'At's Cadoc's shield brother," Rukhash explained. She couldn't imagine what Hedon would think of someone insinuating they were lovers. "Cadoc's down below drillin' with the rest of the warriors."

Hodha smiled curiously. "I'll get ta meet soon, 'en."

Rukhash watched her father lope off, Hodha behind him. He let out an inarticulate shout and the several dozen warriors that followed him here filed into the tunnel that led down into the training caves. Ranmor was on her perch, watching the proceedings with shrewd eyes. Rukhash imagined the clan's head girl couldn't be too comfortable with the number of Uruks among this new group.

Amani had stood silently the entire time, her clawed hands folded behind her back. Rukhash offered her the most benign smile she could, feeling badly that she had nearly forgotten the girl with Hodha's arrival. "Let's get you set up," she said. "You should meet Bhrafmor and see where the supplies're kept."

The _baalak_ girl stood a little straighter. "Sounds good ta me."

Rukhash laughed to herself. ' _Business-like lil' thing.'_

She glanced up towards Hedon. Fiilmor had returned to his side and Gruk batted gently with Dera on the porch. "You arright fer a bit while I'm off?"

He looked unsure for a moment, but Hedon glanced at Fiilmor, who gave him a reassuring smile, and nodded. "Your friend was just discussing the forge here," he admitted. "Apparently Cadoc has had many amusing misadventures there. I am curious to hear about them."

Fiilmor waved her off. "We'll look after the sprogs while you work," she said. "Ain't much fer me ta do 'cept worry 'bout Takhbork gettin' his fool head knocked off durin' practice."

Rukhash chuckled. She doubted Cadoc would allow that to happen.

Tagging Amani's arm, Rukhash led her towards the clans stockpile of supplies, thinking to give Bhrafmor a chance to find out there was a new healer here via the usual gossip mill. Amani seemed nice enough, and it would be good to catch up with Hodha and her father, but Rukhash could not shake a peculiar unease creeping along her spine. They would march out to meet Urzrath's crew in two days. It was going to be a strange wait in between.


	71. Eve of Battle

**Splint**

**Chapter 71: Eve of Battle**

**AN:** _I know, I know! So much talking! I'm spinning a lot of plates in this story, so this chapter does a lot of hopping around. We get a little more focused in our next installment. UnBETAed, so forgive spelling errors. Also, kudos if you catch the Kill Bill quote._

* * *

The ringing and clanging and clashing sang like a metallic choir throughout the lower tunnels. Once Hodha's eyes adjusted to the dim illumination, she could make out several groups competing against each other. With grim determination, the warriors parried and struck. Though these drills were meant as an exercise, a way to keep idle sword hands busy and warmed for the coming battle, there was a real ferocity in the battling groups. She did her best to identify her own tribe amongst the Gundbarashal. She noted Hiskut fighting alongside Ishî. They had Baan hedged against one wall, while a pale  _tark_  fought at his back.

 _Cadoc_ , she thought, quickly scanning the caves for another pale skinned Man. There was only the one. A part of her was startled to find Baan trusting his back so easily to a  _tark_.

He was startlingly unremarkable; an aged whiteskin with greying hair and only one eye, but watching him fight off Hiskut was something to behold. His fencing was effortless. While his expression remained serious but unconcerned, Hiskut looked outpaced, as though she was just barely keeping up. Yammat took that moment to add her own spear to the fray, and while this caught Cadoc off guard for a moment, he easily batted Yammat's spear away while parrying to knock Hiskut's blade out of her hand.

Baan and Ishî's fight had ceased. They seemed as surprised by Hiskut and Yammut's loss as Hodha felt – both females were indomitable warriors. Cadoc bowed his head to them, suddenly contrite, his hand reaching behind his head with a posture Hodha could only describe as sheepish. He said something inaudible with a disarming smile. Hiskut and Yammut were laughing, but Baan looked positively murderous.

 _Someone must've fixed the teams_ , Hodha thought. Seeing the expression on his face, Hodha knew there was no way Baan had paired himself with the  _tark_ purposefully.

"Hodha!" Gijakzi's sharp voice ordered her towards the group he had gathered. She quickly peeled her eyes from Rukhash's  _shaûk_  and joined her chief and the larger contingent of warriors assembled.

She fidgeted in line while Gijakzi and Dufkarn went over the names of the assembled newcomers. The Gundbarashal chief was nursing a wound on his thigh, and Hodha's nose twitched at the scent of blood. Stupid, to be injured on the eve of battle. Yet, Dufkarn walked along their line untroubled. It was probably a surface injury. When, finally, they stopped in front of her, Hodha stood at attention as best she could, looking serious and battle hardened.

"Hodha here's good with a bow. Seen 'er take down a stag at a hundred yards with one arrow," Gijakzi told Dufkarn, and she stood a little straighter at the rare praise. "She's shit with anythin' in 'er hand 'cept a knife, though." Hodha deflated a little, irked by the criticism, though it was absolute truth.

"A good archer don't hurt," Dufkarn said, eyeing her up and down. "Good ta have ya along."

"Ah..." Hodha had not expected such a gracious reception. "Tha–"

They had already moved along the line. Hodha huffed through her nose. "Thanks," she muttered.

* * *

"You should try to get along with him."

"What?" Baan glanced at Hiskut reclined at his side, and his fingers ceased their slow caress of her hip. They finished their sparring session an hour prior, and were settled in their temporary den. Her return had been a relief to Baan in many ways. The battle would be coming along sooner now, and so would their departure. He was intent on celebrating this in a physical way, when her sudden comment broke their intimate moment.

"Rukhash's  _shaûk_ …"

"I know of whom you are referring," Baan cut her off. "I am curious to know why you would suddenly mention this."

"I was thinking, on the way back. You know, he is really not so terrible."

Baan felt a little hot coal light in his eyes. "And why," he asked slowly, "were you thinking of that  _tark_  during your return trip?"

She gave him a dour look. "You are so easily made jealous," she accused. "It is just that I saw Esha and Bogdish briefly, while I was home, and Bogdish asked about his sister and Cadoc and how we were all getting along. I was forced to be truthful. Esha feels similarly to myself. She thinks you are being silly."

"You think I am being  _silly_?"

"I do," Hiskut said. "I think you are blaming a Man for crimes he did not commit, and I think that is foolishness. And the greatest foolishness of all is that I believe you would like him, if you could bring yourself to speak with him civilly."

"Civilly?" Baan sat up, suddenly tense, " _Civilly!_ Do you not suppose that  _tark_  isn't responsible for a share of Orc deaths? Do you suppose, as a Ranger, he did  _not_  slay your people indiscriminately?"

"There was a time  _I_  slew  _tarks_  indescriminately," Hiskut said, her tone suddenly dark and forbidding. "He does not seem to hold that against  _me_. Why should I not afford him the same courtesy?" She rested her head on the heel of her hand, and regarded him quietly for a long minute. "You are my... husband," she said. "In all things, I would stand at your back. Even if I did not agree with you, I would support you in your efforts, because I care for you above all others.  _However_ , it would be remiss of me not to call out an error on your part, and in this circumstance, I feel as if you have acted in error."

Baan said nothing to that. He wasn't sure how to feel about it either. Was his prejudice unfounded? In the case against this one man, yes. Perhaps. But his feelings on the matter were… complicated. He could not, simply, drop his animosity like a sack of bricks. It had festered for far too long, had entrenched itself too deeply into his heart.

"I have hated them since I was a boy, Hiskut," he said at length, giving his musings voice. "And that hate is not solely unfounded. Nor is it easily cast off. I have yet to meet a  _tark_  that proved my assumptions wrong."

"Maybe you should speak to one for more than a few minutes," Hiskut suggested.

Baan sighed. "Is this so important to you?"

"I like Rukhash," Hiskut said. "I would hate to be forced to kill her over your animosity, and that is what will happen if you allow this to continue as it has. Something will be said or done that offends you and you will lose your temper and Cadoc may be hurt and then Rukhash would be obliged to kill you, and _I_  would have to kill  _her_ to stop her. This is something I prefer not to do."

Baan thought she was projecting a little too much. "I am capable of fighting alongside a man I do not like."

"He is more than just a temporary soldier at your side," Hiskut huffed. "Bogdish misses his sister, and wants her to visit with her  _shaûk_  and daughter. And do you not think Gijakzi may occasionally wish to see his daughter and granddaughter? Do you suppose his position as chief will allow him to come  _here_  very often? What if this tribe is threatened again? We are  _turuk nur_  now. We are obliged to help them. You will see more of Cadoc than this one battle."

"So you want me to do this for Rukhash? Because you like her and do not wish to quarrel with her?"

Hiskut gave him a desperate look. "I would like you to do this for our family. Because we are family now, are we not? Should you not look on this man as a brother?"

Baan turned away from her. "That is not how Orcs do things."

He felt the soft brush of her claws on his bare arm. "My love," she said quietly, an endearment she only spoke when they were alone. "You are not an Orc."

* * *

With a low moan, Grazad began to stir. Rukhash was not at her den, and Bhrafmor did not know what else to do besides draw a cool cloth along the old healer's forehead and heat water for a tea she wasn't sure how to make. When the old Orc's eyes began to flutter open, she felt a strange sense of relief. Grazad would be in a load of pain when she woke up, but at least someone would be able to guide her. She felt strangely naked without either of her mentors at her side.

A bright red iris cracked open, looking at her, and yet, Bhrafmor was sure Grazad was not seeing her. Still, she wanted to know the old Orc was regaining consciousness.

"Grazad?"

"Hurts," Grazad croaked. "Thirsty."

Bhrafmor jumped to her feet. Stupid! How could she forget to pour water? "Right," she said as she filled a bowl and brought it to Grazad's dry lips. "Don't drink too fast," she warned.

A little rumble echoed in Grazad's throat. "Bleedin' know that." She sipped tentatively at first and then began sucking down the water in great gulps. Drawing back and glancing at the boiling kettle, she added, "You got tea ready?"

"Fer the pain?" Bhrafmor was nervous. There were so many teas that aided pain, but each worked to a different effect. She wasn't sure which to choose.

"Don't bother with it," Grazad breathed and winced, her whole face screwing up. "Just get me some draught."

"Is that arright?" The draught was used mainly by soldiers in battle. It was a strong painkiller, but not a long term solution for pain management.

"What else Rukhash give me?"

"A sleepin' potion," Bhrafmor replied.

Grazad sighed. " _Which_  sleepin' potion?"

"The one with  _Fozbugh._ "

"That's fine then," Grazad said, motioning towards the corner where she kept her personal bottle of draught. "Ain't no reaction with that one."

Though she also fetched a cup for pouring, Grazad snatched the whole flask from Bhrafmor's hand and took several, large mouthfuls before taking a breath. She waited a moment, took one more, and then set the draught aside. A glazed, fierce look came over her and she sighed with relief. "'At's better."

For long moments, while the fire cast dancing light on the walls, Grazad stared silently into nothing. Bhrafmor was not sure what to say, so she remained crouched by the old Orc's side, waiting on her next order. She felt an overwhelming need to  _do_  something. Comfort Grazad, or inform her on the events that had transpired while she slept or… anything besides look at the side of her head.

"You arright?" Grazad said at last.

"Me?"

Finally, her mentor looked at her. Her eyes were sad. "That old bitch took a good bite outta you."

Bhrafmor tentatively touched the newly healed flesh on her arm. It would be a scar for sure, but nothing worth bragging over. "I'm good," she said. "Are you… can I do anythin' else?"

Grazad took her hand suddenly and Bhrafmor startled. "Yer a good kid," she said. "Better'n I ever gave ya credit fer. I'm sorry 'bout that. I want you to know it."

This was strange. Grazad almost sounded as though she were saying goodbye. "Yer not dyin're nothin', are ya?"

The old healer laughed, grimaced in pain, then took another swig from her flask. "I ain't dyin', ya little shit. It's the truth, is all. Where's Rukhash?"

"Hedon said Gijakzi came with a healer from his tribe ta help with the battle. Rukhash is showin' her around."

"Hn," Grazad shook her head. "Makes sense, I suppose. Yer better off stayin' here'n helpin' me keep an eye on things, anyhow. Don't think I'll be able ta keep up with much, what wit the state I'm in."

Bhrafmor nodded. She  _had_ been a little hurt to find another healer had arrived to outrank her, but Grazad was right. She was still learning. Bhrafmor didn't have much confidence that she would be any help in a battle. The thought of one scared her near to death.

Grazad was patting her hand. "We'll make out arright, you'n me. Gotta hold the fort down."

Draught didn't usually bring on drunkenness in the same way that ale or liquor did. Still, Bhrafmor wondered if Grazad might be a little drunk. She was being strangely affectionate. Never mind that she barely mentioned Old Granny once. Maybe she didn't want to bring it up. Bhrafmor decided not to bring it up either. There was something melancholy in her tone. Grazad probably wanted to mourn Old Granny in privacy.

"Yer up?" The chief was standing at the entrance to Grazad's den. Bhrafmor scented blood and her gaze immediately fell on the slash across his thigh.

The wound caught Grazad's attention as well. "The fuck happened ta you?"

"Turgrat tagged me while we was sparrin'," he said, looking annoyed. "It ain't gonna kill me, but I think it needs a stitch."

Tugging Bhrafmor's skirt, Grazad motioned to her supplies along the back wall. "Don't just sit there," she said. "Go on an' fix the chief up."

Bhrafmor nearly swallowed her tongue. Though she'd seen to stitching before, and was beginning to feel comfortable with it, the idea of mending the chief was downright terrifying. What if her hand slipped? What if her stitching was uneven?

"Well," Grazad smacked her in the arm, "go on."

"Maybe I should get Rukhash…"

"It's just a nick," the old healer snapped. "See to it!"

Not daring to argue further, Bhrafmor quickly gathered what she would need; a small needle, twine, the little bottle of cleaning fluid, a cloth... All the while, she felt as though the chief was boring holes into the back of her skull with his eyes. When she turned, however, she found Dufkarn's attention was focused on Grazad as she lay silently in her bed, not looking at him.

"You can sit where ya like," Bhrafmor told him. Dufkarn sat outside the den with his leg stretched out. Grazad hadn't moved, her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. With one, last, nervous look in her direction, Bhrafmor scurried out after her chief.

Her hands shook as she mashed the twine against the eye of the needle, and for a dizzying moment, everything she had learned in the past six months fell clean out of her head. She wanted badly to prove that she could do this; that she wasn't an absolute fuck up; that her mother's influence wasn't the only reason for her position. Finally, she managed to thread the needle. With that done, she went about cleaning Dufkarn's wound. She couldn't look at him, sure that he was scrutinizing her efforts. He was silent as she wiped the blood away. Bhrafmor ground her molars as she brought the needle to the slice in his leg. The wound would not hinder him, but it was deep enough that it needed a few pokes to hold it shut so it could heal. It was only two stitches. She could do this. If only she would stop trembling.

Dufkarn's giant palm covered her hand up to the wrist. This startled Bhrafmor enough that she forgot to avoid his gaze. Dufkarn bent slightly to look her in the eye. "Oi, girl," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, "I ain't gonna throw a fit if ya get one crooked. Just want this shit ta stop leavin' trails behind me."

Breathing out a nervous laugh, Bhrafmor nodded. "Right, chief," she said.

An odd look danced across his features, but it was quickly replaced by his customary, cool expression. "Go ahead," he closed his eyes. "I ain't nervous 'bout a little prick in the leg."

It ended up being three stitches. As she wrapped a bandage around Dufkarn's leg, he spoke again. "You pissed you ain't marchin' out with us?"

" _Nar_ ," Bhrafmor admitted. "Don't think I'm ready fer it. It's probably better 'at the Glokong brought their healer with 'em."

Dufkarn grunted and stood abruptly. He tested his weight on his leg. "You done a nice job, there, Bhrafmor."

She felt a little swell of pride at his words. Dufkarn rarely used her name.

"That's wisdom," he said, meeting her eyes again, "knowin' where yer limits are. Just don't let them hold you back."

"No, sir."

"Grazad'll need you anyhow," he continued, glancing in on the old healer.

"I know it."

Nodding, Dufkarn gave her shoulder a few, heavy pats and sauntered off towards his perch on the far end of the cave. Feeling strangely heady, Bhrafmor gathered the supplies to file away in Grazad's den.

* * *

"We'll need ta pack at least a dozen'a these," Rukhash said, motioning towards the rows of empty satchels. "There's two medics in our group and three in yers. I want us carryin' extra, too. No point in gettin' caught with our trousers down what with all the stock we have stored up." Amani nodded silently. She had spent the past few hours nodding silently as Rukhash tallied their various healing supplies. She had been so silent, Rukhash had practically forgotten what her voice sounded like. "So, all this makes sense ta you? Ain't got no questions?"

Her back straight, her eyes focused, Amani nodded silently.

"You ain't much'a a talker, are ya?"

The girl looked insulted. "What is it ya want me ta say?"

Rukhash cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I'unno," she admitted. "Somethin' 'bout what I gone over? Somethin' conversational? I'd settle fer anythin' aside from that creepy look yer givin' me."

"What  _creepy_  look?"

"Never mind," Rukhash glanced back over the cramped storeroom. Realizing there wasn't anything else to run by Amani, she shrugged. "You can bug off ta wherever ya like. We done covered all we could."

Without a word, Amani headed back down the dim tunnel that connected the storeroom to the main den. Rukhash watched her vanish into the darkness unsure of what to think about her. Perhaps she should have drilled the kid. Granted, Rukhash had managed to make herself into a decent healer at about the same age, but Amani seemed too young to be rushing headlong into a battle. Rukhash wondered if age had changed her perspective.

Making her own way to the main den, she was pleased to find Hedon with Fiilmor still. They seemed deeply engrossed in conversation while Gruk and Dera played at their feet. A little part of Rukhash stung with jealousy. He hadn't warmed up to  _her_  that fast. Then again, Fiilmor was one of the more congenial females Rukhash had ever met. It was easy to get on well with her.

"Thanks fer watchin' the mite," Rukhash said to Hedon as she scooped Dera into her arms. She nuzzled her nose and Dera laughed. "Cadoc still down below?"

Hedon answered her question with a nod and added, "You have a well behaved child. I barely had to do a thing to entertain her. Gruk seems to keep her quite occupied."

Rukhash settled Dera next to Fiilmor's son, and the pair cuddled companionably as they passed the small pile of rattling toys and stuffed fur balls between each other. They tested each with tentative nibbles before trying the next.

Fiilmor ruffled Gruk's hair. "They's a sweet pair."

"Perhaps, one day, you two will be in-laws," Hedon said with a small smile. Rukhash could barely believe it. Had he cracked a joke? Truly, the world was filled with wonder.

"Har!" Fiilmor's face split in a wide grin. "Don't talk 'at way 'round Cadoc. He tagged Takhbork good fer jokin' like 'at."

"Cadoc has always been a little overprotective of his children," Hedon observed. "You should have seen him hover around Holgar when he was small."

There were few subjects that Rukhash and Cadoc had not breached in detail. Holgar was one of them. Cadoc was a good dad to Dera, attentive and nurturing. She imagined he must have been a good father to his son, but on the rare occasions Cadoc mentioned him, it was with sorrow and regret. She had to admit, she was curious. She wondered what Dera's brother was like.

"You see 'im much, Cadoc's boy?" Rukhash asked. Better to pose a question like this now, when Cadoc wasn't around.

Hedon seemed surprised by her inquiry. "Not since he left for his apprenticeship," he admitted. "That was two years ago."

"Cadoc don't barely say nothin' about 'im," she said, sitting next to her daughter. She ran her claws through Dera's curls.

"It is a difficult subject for him to talk about," Hedon told her. "And I am not sure I am comfortable discussing it with you. If you wish to know what transpired between Cadoc and Holgar, you should ask Cadoc."

"I don't like makin' 'im sad."

"Then, perhaps it is better he speaks of it in his own time."

Fiilmor was giving her an odd look, so Rukhash decided to let the matter drop. "I bet he's gonna send you home with a million letters."

Hedon laughed. "Hopefully less than that. Though, I suppose nothing will be written until this battle with your neighbors is over. Have you been in battle before?"

"Not a proper one like this," Rukhash admitted.

"Are you nervous?"

She shrugged. "A little, but I won't be up front with the soldiers. They'll have me'n Amani guarded, too. Won't see much fightin' at all, most likely."

"How'd that go?" Fiilmore piped in.

"What's that?"

"With Amani," she clarified.

" _Ah_ ," Rukhash wasn't sure what to say about that girl. She didn't know her enough to dislike her, but Amani was definitely weird. "Guess she knows what she's about. Dad seems ta think so, at any rate, and he ain't never been one ta praise fer no reason."

"Your father seems like a somewhat hardened...person," Hedon said. "How did he take the news of you and Cadoc?"

"Eh, likes 'im well as he's gonna, I guess." Rukhash shook her head. "Dad can be a prick sometimes, but he don't start no fights fer no reason. He'll prob'ly spend the rest'a his life ignorin' Cadoc, fer the most mart. 'At's what 'e does when 'e don't wanna deal wit someone."

"An interesting tactic," Hedon commented.

"Oi! Rukhash!" Bhrafmor's voice called from Grazad's den.

"Yea?"

Her dark head peeked out of the cave. "Grazad's awake. Wants ta talk wit you."

Jumping to her feet, Rukhash glared at Hedon and Fiilmor. Fiilmor raised her palms in redress before Rukhash could utter a word. "No one told us!" she said, and Rukhash felt her ire cool. Then it was Bhrafmor's fault for keeping it secret.

Grazad looked seven shades of awful. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body, and her eyes were dark and puffy. Her arm had been dressed with clean binding – Bhrafmor's doing, no doubt. Rukhash wondered how she should approach the subject of Amani.

"I hear we got a helper," Grazad said.

Apparently word about Amani had gotten around already. "She's an extra pair'a hands. I'll need 'er out there."

"I want ya ta bring 'er around later. When I'm feelin' up fer it. Wanna have a chat wit' 'er. See what Iza's taught 'er. I like that old girl, but she got some queer notions 'bout a thing're two."

Rukhash frowned. "Like what?"

"Charms an' talismans an' troll shit like that. Buncha superstitious crap what don't do nothin'. I don't want no one rattlin' no mystic bones over a broken leg, you got it?"

Rukhash exchanged a look with Bhrafmor. She had never heard of such a stupid thing. "Yea, Grazad, I got it."

For a moment Grazad was silent, her gaze seemed as though it was turned inward. Then, she looked Rukhash in the eye. Her expression was cold, forbidding. For a moment, Rukhash thought she looked like the Grazad that trained her in Lugburz all those years ago; a hardened, Mordor pitmaster.

"You enjoy yerself?" she asked, darkly. "I know you wanted 'er dead more'n anyone, so I bet ya did."

Straightening her spine, Rukhash leveled her own glare at Grazad. "I didn't kill 'er. And I didn't knock 'er around beforehand either. I let the chief take care'a it. Seemed like he were in an' out, real quick, if it makes any difference ta you."

The old healer's anger deflated, and she was once again her old, withered self. "I figured Dufkarn had 'er done in. Couldn't imagine he'd let 'er live."

"'At was the deal ya made," Rukhash reminded her. "She planned it good, too. Used Gruk as bait ta lure ya down there. She were tryin' ta kill  _you_ , ya old fool. Bhrafmor just got in the way."

"So now I get a, 'Told ya so'?"

Rukhash embraced the old orcess, pressing her cheek against her clammy forehead. "You get a, 'I'm glad you ain't dead, ya stupid idiot.' You get a, 'Don't fuckin' scare me like 'at again.'"

"Me neither," Bhrafmor added.

She patted Rukhash's arm. Realizing she wanted her space back, Rukhash sat on her heels, though she kept a companionable hand on the old Orc's shoulder. Grazad reached out with her good hand and Bhrafmor took it. Grazad gave her a little squeeze and released her.

"You two," the old healer said, "it's been a long time, ya know, since my girls been gone. An' years longer since I seen my kin. It's why it were so hard fer me ta see the nastiness in Ol' Granny. I kept hopin', somehow, 'at she might go back ta what I'd remembered'a her." Grazad paused a moment, blinking, and Rukhash knew she was holding back tears. "I were lookin' so hard fer the family I lost, I didn't realize I'd found a new one."

"'En yer a blind, old fool," Rukhash said, hoping to break the somberness of the moment. Grazad's words affected her deeply, and if that tension wasn't broken, all three of them were liable to start a round of waterworks.

Grazad smiled, somewhere between laughing and crying. "Little shit."

* * *

After finishing their exercises, the soldiers filed upstairs, but Cadoc wanted a few good minutes with Takhbork. Dufkarn would have him hanging back to guard Rukhash, and Cadoc wanted him ready in case any enemy soldiers slipped through their defenses and made their way in her direction.

In less than six months, Takhbork's form had come along in bounds, his movements quick and controlled. Occasionally, he would throw a wild swing. Cadoc would remind him of his error by disarming him, and Takhbork would duck his head sheepishly, muttering, "Deserved that."

While they sparred, Cadoc became slowly aware that they were being watched. An Uruk woman, about Rukhash's height with a head of fiery red braids, had positioned herself at the wall surrounding the small cove they were practicing in; not in plain sight, but not hiding either. She arranged and rearranged herself several times, leaning against the wall as though she was attempting to look casual. Too curious to ignore her any longer, Cadoc caught his friend's blade against the floor and addressed her.

"Can I help you?"

"Sorry," she said anxiously. "I were just interested in watchin'."

Takhbork looked annoyed to have his blade caught, and equally annoyed by their voyeur. "What fer?" he snapped.

The Uruk woman seemed taken aback by Takhbork's terseness. Countless snide comments by the tribal warriors had made the smith highly suspicious of anyone scrutinizing his fighting technique, even though those same warriors were quick to praise him now. Cadoc thought it was a little high strung of him, but couldn't blame his friend for being sensitive.

"It's just," she motioned to her arrows, "I were brought on as an archer, but I ain't so good with blades. I can manage well enough, I guess, but what yer doin's loads ahead'a me. Thought I might learn somethin' worth leranin', watchin' ya two spar."

"Well, guess that's fine, then." The goblin's ire subsided with her explanation. He gave Cadoc a questioning look.

For his own part, Cadoc could see no harm in letting her watch, though he was curious as to why this Orc was brought along, if she had such little training in weapons. And more than that, why she hadn't been trained by her own Captain. Gijakzi must not have been taking this battle as seriously as Cadoc thought, to have brought along novices.

"Has Botarg not given you instruction?"

With a hurt look, the Uruk woman began to back away from them. "I ain't… That is, I'm arright with a knife. I'm a hunter mostly. Just here ta lend my bow, is all. Didn't mean ta bother you're nothin'."

Cadoc felt like a heel. He certainly had not meant to accuse this young female of anything, and a skilled archer was always a boon in battle. "I apologize," he said. "I did not mean to insult you or your contribution to the fight ahead. I was just a little surprised that you have had no previous training."

She bristled. "I ain't had  _no_  training," she said hotly. "Just nothin' extensive like the soldiers." She patted the short sword at her hip. "Ain't like this's here fer decoration're nothin'."

"Of course," Cadoc said, and bowed his head in apology. "I did not choose my words carefully. Forgive my insult."

Takhbork snorted. "Ain't nothin' ta fergive. 'At were the worst 'insult' I ever heard." He turned towards her and readied his own weapon. "You wanna learn somethin', then draw 'at little pen knife'a yers."

The Uruk woman's green eyes glowed. She drew her sword in a swift, easy motion. "It's bigger'n yers," she growled.

"It ain't the size, it's what ya do with it!"

Takhbork grinned toothily, and lunged at her. Cadoc thought for a moment to stop him, but the Uruk brought up her weapon to meet his with a swift motion, and Cadoc realized she was not as unskilled as he suspected. She did not have Takhbork's control and discipline – her movements were jerky and easy to predict – but what she lacked in technique she made up for in strength. Takhbork might match her impressive speed, but the force of her blows nearly knocked the blade out of his hand twice.

This would be a good lesson for him, to match himself against an opponent much stronger. Cadoc stayed close, in case his own intercession was necessary. The smith was keeping her at bay, but the Uruk might catch a hole in his defenses. He was proud of his friend. When they sparred together, Takhbork would sometimes drop his guard, knowing Cadoc would correct him and not take advantage. Facing an unknown opponent, Cadoc was pleased to see him fighting with a clear head. Though his expression was carved into a sneer, Cadoc could tell his movements were calculated.

Their fight lasted several minutes in which Cadoc realized Takhbork was prolonging the fight. Cadoc noted numerous instances in which the Uruk left herself open to a possibly fatal blow, but each time she did, Takhbork would knock her blade back, she would lose her footing for a moment, and he would pause, waiting for her to attack again. Despite his pride in his friend's command over the situation, Cadoc could tell the Uruk was becoming more and more enraged. He debated how much longer he should allow this match to continue.

"Quit  _fucking_  with me!" The Uruk roared, thrusting her weapon towards his chest.

With a quick movement, Takhbork had her sword out of her hand and with the same motion brought the blade around, stopping just shy of her jugular. The Uruk froze, a shocked expression on her face.

Takhbork used the flat of his blade to pat her cheek. "Told ya size don't count."

The Uruk's expression morphed from shock to pure fury. Quicker than Takhbork could react, she ducked away from his blade and pulled a knife from her boot. She had his sword arm in one hand, and might have slit his throat with the other if Cadoc hadn't caught her wrist.

"Enough!" he shouted.

She glared at him, but there was no real heat in her expression as she released Takhbork. She pushed the goblin smith to the ground and backed away from Cadoc. Her eyes shimmered.

"The fuck's yer problem?" Takhbork hissed.

"I just wanted ta watch you  _spar_ , you prick. Ya didn't 'ave ta be an arsehole about it!" Snatching her blade from where it fell, she quickly sheathed it and stomped out of the training caves.

On her way out, she passed Botarg, who barely spared her a glance. Rukhash's sister approached Cadoc and Takhbork with a cocky grin. "She needed that," Botarg said. "Little idiot's gonna get herself killed. I don't know why the chief let 'er tag along."

She gave Takhbork a heavy slap on the back, nearly knocking him over. "That was some nice work, you!"

Cadoc could swear Takhbork was blushing. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Not nice enough ta save my neck, though."

"It's a shitty move ta pull on a sparring partner," Botarg grumbled, and Cadoc agreed with her assessment. "Hodha ain't gonna inspire a lotta good feelin's with her shield mates doin' shit like that."

"Hodha," Cadoc frowned. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"I'd be shocked if Rukhash ain't mentioned 'er," Botarg said.

That brought an idle conversation many weeks ago to the forefront of Cadoc's mind. Rukhash had been relieved by the news Hodha was still alive. "Yes," he said. "She has. They were friends when they were young."

Botarg whistled long and low. "Is that what she said they was? Friends?"

Confused, Cadoc tried to recall his  _shaûk_ 's exact phrasing. " _Good_  friends?"

The Uruk captain laughed. "Those two were stuck at the hip fer the last few years afore the river came callin'. They was always pals, but once they hit  _'that age_ ', they were near inseparable. E'ryone always figured they'd be a pair one day."

Cadoc absorbed that information quietly, surprised by what Botarg was insinuating. "Rukhash was just a girl before the Isen flooded."

Botarg shook her head. "So was Hodha. They's, like, a day're two apart in age. Rukhash were born first."

"Orc kids start explorin' that stuff young," Takhbork explained. "It really ain't so unusual, ta pair up with a pal same age as ya, when yer interested in feelin' that shit out." Since they spent so much time together, discussing different aspects of their upbringing, he was familiar with the cultural differences between their people. He most likely understood why Cadoc was awestruck by the information Botarg imparted.

Curious, and somewhat troubled, Cadoc asked, "Is she here because of  _Rukhash_?"

"I don't see any other reason," Botarg replied. "I don't think she ever really got over Rukhash dyin', and now 'at she ain't dead, I can't think 'at she wouldn't want ta see 'er."

"Did you come down here to tell me this?"

Botarg blinked at him. "What?  _Nar_ , Rukhash asked me if I'd head down 'ere ta let ya know the old healer's awake. Figured you'd like ta know."

"I would. Thank you."

She batted at the air. "Watchin' that bit'a business just made it worth my while."

"You find this situation amusing, don't you?" Cadoc accused.

"Pretty hilarious," Botarg admitted. "I think Hodha's an idiot fer settin' 'erself up like 'is. Kinda a queer, obsessive kid, if ya ask me. But it's her business, if she wants ta put 'erself through seein' her old bedmate paired off with someone who won't share 'er."

"That is not how our relationship works…"

Botarg was already walking away. "Don't care," she said with a little wave.

Takhbork drew alongside Cadoc and they exchanged a look. "This is gonna get weird, isn't it?"

Cadoc sighed. "Probably."

* * *

The tribes were settling down for the evening meal. On the chief's rock, Gijakzi gathered with Dufkarn in what Baan could only describe as an intense looking conference. They had a map out, with little marks here and there. Botarg and Turgrat leaned over them with grave expressions. The food set aside for them lay untouched on match along the perimeter of the boulder.

Ishi was gathered with Ashplak on one of the upper ledges. Baan did not want to guess at what they were up to, but it looked conspiratorial.

Groups were gathered playing dice, or eating or – unfortunately for Baan's eyes – mating. The eve of battle was both a time of celebration and preparation for Orcs. Much of the preparation was complete, so now the celebrations would start. Baan should have been with Hiskut, enjoying what little privacy they had, but their earlier conversation still weighed on him. He decided a brief jaunt around the caverns would clear his head a little. Perhaps he would take a walk outside.

He caught sight of Amani, sitting alone on a low tier. Her attention was fixed on the far end of the cave, where Cadoc sat with his shield brother. Several of the tribe's children were gathered around Cadoc as he read from a large book. It was a sight that should not have troubled Baan. In fact, the way the children climbed on top of the  _tark_  proved that they both trusted and liked him, but the familiar feeling of agitation still gnawed at him.

Baan had spoken with Amani on rare occasions, usually when she was tending a wound he had incurred, but Orc tribes circulated gossip well. Her parents had been slain by  _tark_  Orc hunters. He wondered if he might find in her a kindred spirit, someone to share his animosity with; who would understand why he could not, simply, let the matter drop.

"Hello, Amani," he greeted her.

Amani looked at him with arresting green eyes. "Baan," she greeted, and returned her attention to the rangers.

Baan sat next to her. Her food was half touched, and her face showed little emotion.  _Such a strange child_ , he thought. "Shall we complain about the stink of  _tark_  together?" he joked.

"They smell 'bout the same as any Man-folk," she said. It was strange to hear an Orc accent in the timbre of a child, without the growling roughness Baan usually associated with Orcish voices. Hegdash had the same, mannish voice. He had always been put off by her accent as well.

Amani's comment and her demeanor held no clues to her thoughts. "You seem very focused on them," Baan observed. "After what became of your parents, does it bother you that they are here?"

The young healer was silent for a long moment before she spoke. "Granny always said revenge's like a forest. It's easy ta get lost. I'll remember the face'a the man 'at killed my mum'n da til the day I die. One day, when I'm big enough, I'mma find 'at man, an' I'm gonna make 'im feel what I feel. I'm gonna let 'im know what it's like ta lose everything you've ever loved. Then I'm gonna kill 'im. But til then, I don't plan on gettin' lost in the forest."

Baan realized why few people chose to strike up a conversation with Amani. He followed her gaze back to where Cadoc was reading. "May I ask why you are so fixated on him, then?"

"I like the story 'e's readin'."

"You can hear him from  _here_?"

Amani tapped her triangular, Orcish ears, which were pitched forward. "It's good practice, singlin' out noises in a din," she said.

"I see."

Baan rose from his seat. Perhaps it would be better if he found Hiskut again. There was little sense in wasting his time worried about the presence of a  _tark_. Nothing was sure in battle, and he wished to spend the night before one as pleasurably as possible. That did not include cryptic conversations with young half-Orcs.

He raised his hand in farewell. "It is always a pleasure to speak with you, Amani."

The girl remained motionless. Her focus distant. "Likewise," she replied.

* * *

On the upper level of the caves, where they had a good vantage point for all the comings and goings of folks, and could catch a good show, Ashplak and Ishî were settling in for a night of drinking. As a pair of old, soldier fucks, they knew better than anyone that the best way to march into battle was half drunk with just a slight hangover, so you could take your pain out on your enemy. Ashplak had been brewing his customary, extra strong ale just for the occasion.

"If we can't be fuckin', we might's well be drunk," the old goblin said as he set down a jug half his size.

The Black Uruk grinned with yellow teeth. "I like the way you think, soldier." Ashplak poured them both a generous amount and Ishî added, "You'd probably put a crick in my dick anyhow."

"Haw!" Ashplak passed him the cup. "I knew I liked you from the day ya walked in."

After a gulp that drained half his cup, he grimaced. With a hard slap to Ashplak back he said, "This is fuckin' awful. What is this stuff?"

Ashplak shrugged. "Little'a this, little'a that. I throw it all in a pot an' see what happens."

"Ballsy. I like it."

"Puts hair on yer chest."

Ishî thumped his bare, hairless breastbone. "Always wanted a hairy chest, meself."

Ashplak poured them both another cup. "Well, we better get ta work, 'en. 'At hair won't grow itself."


End file.
